


𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 [bnha]

by goldenjagi



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Ghoul Reader (Tokyo Ghoul), Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Torture, Traitor Reader, assassin reader, like SLOWWWWW burn, mercenary reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenjagi/pseuds/goldenjagi
Summary: Anything you want can be obtained with power. With effortless moves and remarkable strength, you find that make this quirk won't be so bad after all....[BNHA/MHA x Ghoul!Reader]Main Love Interests: Amajiki Tamaki, Dabi, Todoroki Shouto, Takami Keigo, Bakugou Katsuki, and Shinsou HitoshiPosted from Quotev (user: goldenjagi)
Relationships: Amajiki Tamaki & Reader, Amajiki Tamaki/Reader, Bakugou Katsuki & Reader, Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Class 1-A (My Hero Academia) & Reader, Class 1-A (My Hero Academia)/Reader, Class 1-B (My Hero Academia) & Reader, Class 1-B (My Hero Academia)/Reader, Dabi (My Hero Academia)/Reader, Original Male Character/Reader, Shinsou Hitoshi & Reader, Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Reader, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Reader, Todoroki Shouto & Reader, Todoroki Shouto/Reader
Comments: 35
Kudos: 101





	1. 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ This is a BNHA x Ghoul! Reader. The ghoul part is based on Tokyo Ghoul; however, you do not have to be completely familiar with the manga/anime in order to read this (it would help, though). 
> 
> TW: A lot of it is canon-typical: violence, gore, death, etc.. In this story there will also be assassination, explicit torture, sexual references (but not explicit), and much more. I would advise those that do get triggered to avoid reading altogether. 
> 
> Some extra things to note:
> 
> It is my preference to avoid using [name]/[Y/N] things, so you likely won't encounter many of them throughout.  
> Typically, I use ou > ō (ex. Bakugou, Jirou, Shinsou) - it's pretty inconsistent though  
> I use Yuuei > U.A.   
> I draw in my free time, and I enjoy drawing for this book! There is no canon appearance for the reader. If the art is colored, please substitute your own features! I try to make them as ambiguous as possible, but sometimes I base it off of myself :)  
> Please refrain from plagiarizing my work, both the story and art.  
> I don't own BNHA or Tokyo Ghoul, but you probably already knew that.   
> I hope you enjoy my book! 

_“We don’t give mercy to our prey,”_ your mother said your name sternly, eliciting a whimper from your lips. It had only been your second feeding, a mere two months after your fourth birthday bestowed you this wretched curse. Your first victim was already dead, but this...  
  
The prey peered up into your soul with soft eyes. Even though he was bound with rope and duct tape covered his lips, he showed no sign of struggle. Even at four years old, you could tell he accepted his fate. You looked away with surging tears. Your heart lurched in a way you've never known.  
  
"I-I don't understand why we have to eat him, Mommy, can't-can't we just leave him be? We could just set him free somewhere... I-if we catch him again we can kill him! Just this once. . ." You trailed off.  
  
Your mother tsked as her eyes turned a deep black with piercing red irises. She efficiently punctured the man’s heart with her _kagune_. Life spilled out in a final breath as you gulped, curbing a sob from leaving your lips. Her _kagune_ was something akin to a scorpion's tail. A deep maroon pulsed within the appendage before it receded, eyes returning to normal.  
  
"You obviously don't understand," Your mother's eyes hardened, staring pointedly at you. "He was a nuisance--a pest. He was _human._ We have no reason to spare the weak, _especially_ this one _._ We've caught him one too many times already. Now eat." She grabbed your jaw painfully, forcing your head to look at the dead body. Your eyes snapped shut, but you could feel your mother's irritation growing stronger by the second.  
  
Pure will alone allowed you to open your eyes. Blood pumped excitedly in your ears as you felt your face heat with desire. You licked your lips at the deep red spilling from the corpse's chest. Desperation crept up your neck as you attempted to push it down, but the struggle was futile. Hunger overtook your thin morals, as surroundings blurred. Time became a clouded concept as you shoved gobbet after gobbet of flesh into your salivating mouth. Drool seeped down your open jaw, muddled with blood.  
  
A sudden wave of awareness hit you, spilling more tears at the consumption of what used to be your brethren. Nevertheless, ravenous starvation dulled these thoughts once again. You didn’t stop feeding until the body was completely mutilated.  
  
This time, reality sunk in fully. You gasped for air when you realized what you did. Choking up, you wondered, _‘H-how did I...?’  
  
_“Now that’s a good girl. Don’t you feel better now?” Mother doted, pleased that you ate so much. Tears saturated your cheeks as you felt a chunk of flesh stuck between your teeth.  
  
“M-mommy! Why… Why did I do that?” You sobbed uncontrollably, disgusted with yourself. You hated that it came to this. You clutched your stomach feeling absolutely nauseated. You retched with fat tears rolling down your chin. Mother only smiled.  
  
Bile rose in your throat as she spoke, “Because of your wonderful quirk, sweetie. I know you may not like it now, but soon you’ll see just how blessed you are; how powerful you can be.” Her sclera swelled with black once again as she picked off what little was left of the body. She sucked the excess blood off her hands with a cruel smile.  
  
“He was weak,” your mother began, "Detrimentally so. We had to finish him, do you understand? He didn't even have a damn quirk. He was going to die anyway." She scoffed with a nasty glare in her ghoulish eyes.  
  
You didn’t answer, for you were entranced by what you had done. Burned into your brain was the skeletal remains of your second meal as a ghoul.  
  
_Your older brother._

* * *

You scoffed at your reminiscing. 'Since when did I daydream?' you thought, steeling your mind. 'Eyes on the prize, now. I can't afford to fuck it up.' Your eyes scanned the moonlit area from the rooftop you currently resided, catching sight of a tasteful company building you were told of. 'Gotcha,' you jumped from the building and slid down your mask, kagune slinking out of your back as you gracefully skipped from building to building. 

As you neared your target building you abated your pace and increased your stealth. Creeping up to what seemed to be the loudest window, you peered in. It was a business party with plenty of sleazy men trying to buy women with their greasy money. Sneering, you spotted your target. 

'Kuroda Gonshiro, age 48 male. Approximately 250 pounds, five foot six inches, with slicked-back grey hair and a glossy cane he treasures. Hired hitman to kill the client's father and the client came to me to murder him. Classic revenge.' You ran through all the boxes and checked every last one. 'It's definitely him.'

The man was cozying himself up next to what seemed to be somebody's assistant. 'Have some goddamn respect,' your lip curled with disgust. 'I hate filth like him.'

You waited patiently until Kuroda appeared to have some business to attend to. Leaving the assistant with a smirk and what you could only assume was a goodbye, he hastily left the crowded room. Luckily for you, nobody followed. He appeared to be turning left out of the room. Seeing that you memorized the general floor plan, you knew that to the left of the room was only a stairway. You highly doubted a sleazeball like Kuroda would leave without harassing the assistant at least a little, meaning he was only taking a break. If you recalled correctly, the client's provided information stated that Kuroda was an avid smoker. Putting two-and-two together, you smirked. 'He's going to the rooftop for a little smoke break, now isn't he? Well, that's just perfect. Make sure you take a nice, long drag, Kuroda because that cigarette will be your last.'

You swiftly ducked into an unoccupied room to the right of the party. Yesterday, as a precaution, you rigged several windows around the building, allowing you to have multiple access points to wherever you needed. Your kagune replaced the tampered window, as you gauged your surroundings.

You appeared to be in a conference room, and after close inspection, you found a security camera. 'That damn rat better be doing his job. Just in case..." From hurried calculations, you deduced you haven't been spotted yet even if your inept partner didn't do his job properly. You skirted around the camera's sight. As you neared the device you saw that the tech was, in fact, turned off. 'Least he can do something right," you thought. The security camera would do the classic loop until you were safely out of sight. Of course, you weren't naïve enough to think that would cover you forever, so you darted to the door and pressed your ear against it. 'All clear.'

Slipping out of the door, you looked left. The only obstacle in your way now was the open door to the party. While you were confident that inebriated, senile men could do little to harm you, you didn't want to take any chances on the job. Using your _kagune's_ adept arms, you hoisted yourself close to the ceiling, pressing your back to it. You began to crawl like a disabled spider across the ceiling. 'I really don't get paid enough.' 

Your internal struggle was halted by a very blatantly drunk woman stumbling out of the room. 'Fuck! This is not how I go down, right? Right?' You bit your lip, only then remembering that you could likely snuff out her life before she could even say "sham-wow". Your muscles relaxed a hint.

The intoxicated woman groaned unreasonably loud. You stifled the flinch that nearly overcame you. 'Just hurry up and leave already,' you inwardly groaned. Leave, she did, but not before retching quite possibly the most foul-smelling substance you've ever bared witness to. 'Fucking disgusting, damn human food.'

You shook off your antipathy and continued crawling across the ceiling, wanting to leave the horrid-smelling vomit behind as soon as ghoulishly possible. When you finally crossed to the other side of the party's doorway, you sprinted to the stairway on the balls of your feet, retracting your kagune. You opened the heavy door leading to the stairs and boosted yourself up the stairway by the handrails. 

At last, you were on the roof. To your pleasure, Kuroda was helplessly alone, puffing out a thick grey smoke into the violet sky. Your eyes glinted with red.

"Having a good night?" You started. Kuroda jumped, making you smirk under your mask. His cigarette hopped around in his hands, eventually tumbling out, but not before leaving several burns. 'Self-destruct much?'

"W-who are you? Stay back! I have plenty of allies that could end you right there!" The man was shaking, despite his words. You chuckled lowly. 

Step by step, you inched closer. "I doubt that," you said airily. "Even if they do come I can just eat them too."

"E-eh?! E-eat?!" The pudgy man fell to the floor in despair, terror burrowed in his eyes. Kuroda knelt into a bow. "P-please! I beg of you! I-I have a daughter...!" You shut him up by shoving his prized cane into the back of his throat. He choked, desperately clawing at his neck as his crocodile tears soon became real. 

"Funny," You said, "The man you murdered had a son."

Those were the last words Kuroda heard before his life was swiped from him, like a rug from underneath his feet. One of your Kagune's four glaring arms had entered his temple and came out the other side. You sighed.

'While I'm sure he is quite..." You paused, frowning down at his plump frame, "Nutritious, I don't exactly relish the thought of putting Kuroda in my mouth." You kissed your teeth. 'As the witch would tell me, food is food." 

You tore into the carcass and ate to your displeasure. Soon you were left with the bones and scraps. You grimaced as unpleasant memories surfaced. You shook your head and pulled out a bag, shoving the leftovers in. A few wipes of a rag here and there and the rooftop was good as new. There was a reason you were known for body disposal. 

_The Ghoul Assassin: Flawless._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1962 words


	2. 𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨

Picking your teeth with a spare bone shard, you gazed about the roof. The sun was rising steadily, illuminating the immaculacy of the setting. The near-sparkling cleanliness soothed you, and you mentally praised yourself. Truly, you would be an exceptional boy scout, always leaving places cleaner than you found it.  
  
You were far-ahead of schedule; the unpredictability of the mission allotted more time. Now that you finished things quickly, you had the day to yourself, save from getting home. Deciding you didn't want to leave just yet, you took off your boots and sat on the edge of the roof. A gust billowed around your covered feet as you leaned back, taking a deep breath. A satiated stomach and a clean environment, how much better could it get? Your eyes closed in the morning sky, dozing off.  
  


* * *

Thirteen Years Prior

* * *

  
Your small hands clutched with nervousness, sweating bullets. It was your first training session to become a mercenary. You were the youngest of seven cousins, and all were training or had already been trained. The family business was simple, people hired you to kill, and you got to eat. It was a win-win. Neutrality was generally maintained, and your clan was paid from both sides, though business tended to lean towards the villains.  
  
You were scared, knowing you'd have to use your _kagune_. You previously only used your quirk when feeding even then you were reluctant. The swirling red tentacles seemed to have power over you, rather than the other way around. It felt uncertain when you directed the _kagune,_ and that only made you more and more afraid of the power.  
  
When the lesson began, it was as predicted. Your aunts and uncles directed each of you to spar, and so you did, fumbling considerably. After feeling you were mortified enough, your uncle moved onto a lecture. You were taught of your quirk and its anatomy, finally grasping what you've lived with for the past year.  
  
"The quirk 'Ghoul' develops the same time as all other quirks, at the age of four. It gives the owner heightened senses of smell and hearing. The purpose of the powers are largely predatory, as we can only consume human flesh," Your cousins giggled, while you remained still.  
  
"There is an extra organ in ghouls called a _kakuhou_ that stores _Rc cells," Y_ our uncle pointed at the diagram roughly drawn out on a chalkboard. "These _Rc cells_ are released from part of the back to form a _kagune,_ an appendage-like structure that can vary in shape and size. Four _Rc types_ determine characteristics of a _kagune_ : _ukaku, koukaku, rinkaku_ , and _bikaku_. Each type corresponds to a certain part of the back; _ukaku_ , shoulders; _koukaku_ , below the shoulder blades; _rinkaku_ , waist; and _bikaku,_ lower back."  
  
Instinctively, you reached behind your back, feeling about where your _kagune_ releases. The tentacles always spawned from your waist-area. _'So I'm a rin... Kaku?'_ You observed others doing the same, all touching their back with a far-off look.   
  
"I, for example, am a _koukaku,_ so my _kagune_ is released... right... here..." Your uncle struggled to reach the point just under his shoulder blades. Cousins bursting with laughter, even you cracking a smile, your aunt finally goes over to point at the area for him. "My _Rc cells_ are particularly dense, meaning I have a great defense. This being said, speed doesn't come as easily to a _koukaku._ Each type possesses its strengths and weaknesses, so be sure to pay attention to these and accommodate them. That is all for today," Your uncle finished, your cousins leaped off the ground and began arguing about who had the best _kagune._ A wild show of thrumming colors erupted out of cousins, aunts, and uncles alike. Meanwhile, you stayed adhered to the ground, mulling over the newfound knowledge.   


* * *

You woke with a start, scrambling to find your phone.

  
"Oh, thank God it's only seven," You thought out loud, flinching at your stupidity. How could you fall asleep at the crime scene? It was truly shameful how you allowed yourself to slip up. By chance, no one had yet discovered you on the rooftop, but you didn't take it for granted. Expeditiously, you picked up your stuff and clambered off to the nearest motel. A refreshing hot shower sounded incredible to your sore and tired body. It had been a five-hour journey to the location by foot, and with limited rest, you were about dead on your feet.  
  
Checking into the motel, you took off your mask and pulled out your wallet from the belt-bag you wore. Enhanced with a spatial quirk, it held all of your necessities: such as your body bag, cleaning supplies, and your wallet. You shuffled through your wad of cash as the desk clerk eyed you warily with a hint of envy. Your mother didn't believe in cards, with the new age of technology brought a whole new slew of risks. Not that you could have a credit card or the like, even if you wanted to.  
  
Handing over the money, the clerk gave you a key. You thanked them and bowed, stowing your wallet away. Sauntering outside to your room, you passed a deranged looking man tripping inside the door. He spared you one look but never glanced back. You brushed him off and climbed the single set of stairs to your room. Plugging in the key, the door swung open, revealing a stale room with a single bed. The ceiling was littered with watermarks, and the bed covers looked far from washed. Fortunately, you weren't staying with the intention of napping. You shivered when you imagined pulling the decrepit sheets over your body.  
  
Moving to the bathroom, you turned the shower on as hot as you could. Slipping off your clothes, you unzipped your belt bag once again and sifted through the items. You pulled out shampoo, conditioner, and a body wash. Content with your findings, you re-zipped the bag and stepped into the shower.  
  
Steam blanketed your body as you began shampooing your hair. You thought back to your meal the previous night. The mission had gone without a hitch; you had to hand it to your partner for pulling through. While your cousin may be idiotic, he knew when he should get things done. At least, most of the time. Washing out the suds in your strands, you turned to the conditioner. As you smothered your hair with the product, your mind wandered.  
  
Before you knew it, you were all laved. You stepped out of the shower and dressed. Steam followed you out of the room as you checked the alarm clock on the nightstand. _9:33 a.m._ it read. You were shocked.   
  
_'Damn, I sure took my sweet time in the shower,'_ You cursed yourself, knowing mother would ask of your whereabouts by now. You pulled out your mission's burner phone, and sure enough:  
  
**Mother**  
I heard from Taysuke you should be done by now. Surely you're on your way back?  
8 _:10 a.m._  
  
You scorned that moronic cousin of yours. You gave him too much credit for him to rat you out like this. Sighing, you typed back.  
  


**Me**  
I completed the mission successfully. I am currently residing in a motel to freshen up. I will take my leave by noon.  
_9:35 a.m._

  
You knew that while the witch may abhor you taking your sweet time, but she couldn't complain. The timeframe of the mission stretched to the end of tomorrow. This means, Mother's permission or not, the day was yours. You considered what you could do for the day. Currently, you resided in the manufacturing hub Nagoya. It would take you about four hours northeast to the hero capital, Musutafu, and an hour north from there to your humble abode. The total trek came to a total of approximately five hours at a casual pace. You would get home by five if you left at noon, as you promised. While it wasn't the most ideal of circumstances, two and a half hours of pastime sounded like a dream.  
  
You stretched out your sore back contentedly and peeked out the window. Outside, you saw the man you passed by earlier in the parking lot. His well-muscled body stumbled as he gripped his head tightly with both hands. His struggle was compelling, so you decided to watch. With prying eyes, you studied the male.  
  
He was fit, that much you could tell from just a glance. Donning a white tank top, his sturdy shoulders rippled underneath the blond hair above. Oh, you could just imagine what he would taste like... Toned humans have a melt-in-your-mouth attribute that you just couldn't get anywhere else. The excess fat on Kuroda the night prior seemed to glue your teeth together and coat your throat. You nearly gagged thinking about it.  
  
While you were reliving the sub-par feeding, the man conquered his fit and pulled out a phone. He chatted animatedly, striking over-the-top poses every once in a while. When doing a particularly outrageous pose, you saw a prominent scar that ran down the male's forehead. Your interest piqued at the discovery, and you continued to watch attentively. The distraction was short-lived, however, as the man soon abandoned you.  
  
You were once again left with nothing to do, so you determined you would make use of your time by preparing what leftovers you had. Strolling back into your bathroom, you took out the bag with Kuroda's remains. Willing your _kagune_ out of your lower back, three tentacles sluggishly made work of the small amount of meat on the bone. The man wasn't tasty at all, so you decided to keep the meat and bones for the punished.  
  
Your mind wandered elsewhere as the flesh was diced and thrown back into the bag along with the bones. Checking the alarm, you identified the time closing in at eleven o'clock. It was just enough time to grab a coffee and leave.  
  
A quaint café caught your eye. It boasted _"the best coffee you'll ever taste!"._ With such a claim, you couldn't help yourself.   
  
Many ghouls, such as yourself, were well-versed in the world of coffee. This is because coffee was the only thing you can digest, aside from humans and water. It was a welcome change of flavor, and many of your relatives owned a café.  
  
Stepping inside, the bright aroma enveloped you. You breathed in deeply, a genuine smile gracing your face. Coffee is one of the few things that make you truly happy in this damned life of yours. You ordered an exotic blend and waited to be served.  
  
Browsing your phone in the meantime, you stumbled across an article on All-Might, claiming they discovered his quirk. You scoffed, scrolling past the obvious clickbait. All-Might was something of a pet peeve to you. In interviews and the like, the giant man always brushed off important questions like the brute he was. Society may be willing to overlook the holes in his persona, but you were not.  
  
Eyes glazed in thought, you almost didn't notice your coffee being called. With a mumbled thank you, you sat down in the patio area of the café. A tentative sip leads only to disappointment.  
  
' _Of course, I knew it wouldn't be the_ best, _but I was hoping it'd at least be brewed properly,"_ You inwardly grumbled, tossing the botched coffee. An unimpressed look masked your face, and you decided you might as well go home.  
  
Getting home would be a breeze. You jumped on the roof of the café and took to free-running across the cityscape. The wind rushed against your face with resistance, filling you with an addictive buzz. Right foot, then left foot, a fast tempo consumed you. Sharp senses picked up various smells and sights, but for the most part, your ears only detected the wind that jostled your hair. You always found tranquility running above the bustle.  
  
A few hours had passed, and the inkling of peace you felt was abruptly squashed. You heard a loud commotion to the south. Curiosity got the better of you, so you changed course towards the noise. When you neared the disturbance, you realized the booming in your ears was explosions. An actual pile of _shit_ was encumbering a boy with its sludge-y body.   
  
Another blast rattled out, and you realized the blond boy in the sludge was making the explosions. The sewage being continued to plug the boy's airway, creating a nasty scene of desperate clawing and explosions.  
  
' _Filth,'_ You thought, looking down at the sewer monster with lidded eyes. He was a D-rank _at best._ Turning your focal point, you realized that the heroes didn't even attempt at doing anything. ' _Sickening how these damn humans claim to be superior and then idle around like that..."_ You scoffed, deciding to watch the spectacle play itself out a little longer.  
  
Suddenly a feeble green-haired boy rocketed toward the villain. He ripped off his backpack and threw it at the sludge, stunning it for only a moment. The boy seemed helpless and scared as the so-called "heroes" behind him yelled.  
  
' _Natural selection will solve this case,'_ You mused, turning your heel and running back on track. The air pressure abruptly changed, and cheering ensued. You didn't bother to look back. _'Sounds like a legitimate hero finally got there,'_ You smirked, continuing home.  
  
You arrived at your house in record time, though this did nothing to ease your mother's stern look.  
  
"You're late," She sneered, grabbing your wrist forcefully.  
  
Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "I'm an hour earlier than expected."  
  
Mother seemed to be having none of it, a disdainful look slipped over her narrow face. "You should've come right away. You're late." This time, you bit your tongue. "Anyways, you have a new mission."  
  
The information caught you by surprise. Mercenary work wasn't exactly common, at least, not with the price you put on it. Not only this, but your entire family of ghouls practiced the work, making the clientele even more sparse. If you were lucky, you'd get enough jobs to fulfill your hunger, nothing more. One job right after another? That's another world entirely.  
  
"What... is it?" You asked cautiously. You hoped it wasn't some sort of suicide mission.  
  
"You're going to be a mole in the hero school Yuuei, beginning the next school year!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you all very much for reading! I know this may not have been the most exciting of chapters, but I hope it at least laid the foundation for you all~
> 
> I was pleasantly surprised at how many people are reading. It almost makes me nervous, haha;;;; Please treat me well;;;; That being said, I do sincerely hope everyone enjoys this story or is at least mildly entertained. If any of you have constructive criticism, suggestions, or just comments, please feel free to voice them below! I do only write at nocturnal hours, so please keep that in mind ^^ I cannot express how happy comments make me feel~ Like a lovely bird of happiness hatched inside of me~
> 
> Ahem
> 
> I am planning on updating this story at least every other week, maybe even once a week, depending on length. This is just a self-indulgent thing, but I do pride myself in quality. I will attempt at triple checking every chapter before publishing, meaning this may take more time to update. I, unfortunately, am not a machine, and cannot pump out chapters. Please respect my outside life and recognize the fact that I, too, am human. 
> 
> I hope to see you next update!
> 
> The picture is not mine !!!
> 
> 2643 words


	3. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥

**[name] Koukai**  
Quirk: Ghoul  
Age: 17  
Kagune Type: Rinkaku   
  
**Stats**  
Power: ● ● ● ◌ ◌ ◌ [3/6 - **C** ]  
Speed: ● ● ● ● ◌ ◌ [4/6 - **B+** ]  
Technique: ● ● ● ● ● ◌ [5/6 - **A** ]  
Intelligence: ● ● ● ● ● ◌ [5/6 - **A+** ]  
Cooperativeness: ● ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ [1/6 - **E** ]  
Anti-Heroism: ● ● ● ● ● ● [6/6 - **S** ]  
_This is at the stage the reader is currently depicted in the story_  
  
**Background**  
The Koukai clan came to be before the Luminescent Baby of Qingqing, China. Ghouls swept the scene without an adversary to keep them in check, and primarily went unrecorded. Many civilians went missing during this time, nicknamed _The Great Disappearance._ It is believed within the clan that they are the spawn of the devil and that quirks were introduced to oppose them.   
Today, there are many branches of the family, due to its long history. The division [name] resides is known as the Jiburu branch. There are currently 16 subdivisions of the clan.   
The quirk 'Ghoul' is acutely dominant. If a baby is born to a ghoul parent, the child will be a ghoul. That being said, ghouls have great difficulty in producing offspring with humans. This has lead to both smaller generation sizes and higher levels of inbreeding within the clan. It has been proven that those who are half-human tend to be stronger than their full-ghoul counterparts. It is unclear whether the apparent weakness is due to the inbreeding or another factor.  
Governments around the world have known of ghouls for varying amounts of time. Many governments have taken to weeding out ghouls with investigators nicknamed Doves. This, along with the aforementioned infertility, has lead to decreasing clan size. The influx of Doves in Japan lead the Jiburu branch to birth their children off-record, allowing them to live without connotations and have the freedom to work as they please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope this gives some background knowledge for the future and clears some things up! Feel free to comment questions, suggestions, or thoughts! I believe that I will be posting chapter three this Wednesday, so stay tuned!
> 
> Important Question: Would you rather have more frequent, but shorter chapters or longer, but infrequent chapters? 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> 395 words


	4. 𝘔𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘥 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

As preppy little filth scampered around you in the glass-lined building, all you could think of was, _'How the actual fuck did I get talked into this?  
  
_It had been a solid ten months since your mother had briefed you on this mission. That day forward, you dreaded this-- _your first day in Yuuei._ Ten months to perfect your little character to stay undetected. Your hands clutched your appalling teal skirt in frustration as you walked. Everything reeked of the hopefuls that lined the halls. You forced a strained smile onto your face as you reached your destination  
  
_Class 1-K  
_

* * *

Ten Months Prior 

* * *

  
_"You're going to be a mole in the hero school Yuuei, beginning the next school year!"  
  
_Your mother was out of her damn mind. While you have been a mole before, gathering information and all that, this was different. It's _Yuuei_. How could she possibly expect you to fly under all radars without getting caught? The prestigious school was known for its high level of security. Boasting the infamous Yuuei Barrier, state-of-the-art alarm systems, not to mention the staff were all heroes, your ass was surely a goner.  
  
The uncertainty must've darkened your features, as Mother quickly explained herself.  
  
"Listen, the up-and-coming League of Villains is asking us for a little side-job. You and I both know we owe them." Your mother steps to the side, showing off a stack of cash. "We're being generously compensated even though this is a favor. I even got a down payment. Naturally, I accepted." She looked down her nose at you, and you knew you couldn't oppose her.  
  
Your mother was always something of a materialist. She was the only ghoul in the subdivision of your clan that carried out missions for cash. Normally, the members of the family would only take on assassination missions where the body wasn't needed, allowing them to keep the corpse for consumption. Mother, on the other hand, worked varying types of jobs, this apparently being one of them.  
  
"Mother, how long is this supposed to last? What happens if I can't do missions on the side?" You asked, hoping she'd cut you some slack and make one of your cousins do it.  
  
She only sighed. "It's a favor. I shouldn't need to say this twice. I'll take up more hitman jobs to feed both of us." It was your turn to sigh. Whenever mother fed the both of you, you were subjected to the worst parts of the body. On top of that, sometimes they tasted strange.  
  
"For this mission, you're going to be a first-year, age fifteen. I'll get you into the class that fits best, and you make your legal documents. You will disguise your quirk as well."  
  
Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets in both irritation and surprise. "I'm _seventeen,_ almost eighteen. Why am I getting shoved into a class full of tiny tot heroes? Couldn't I at least be a third-year transfer?"  
  
"I am getting more and more annoyed with you, girl. You better watch your words from now on. You are to be a first-year to influence the easiest targets." Your mother tsks, evidently growing ireful with your questions. Typically you take what missions you could get, no questions asked, but this particular assignment was peculiar. It seemed like a waste of energy. While you did owe the League of Villains--specifically their leader, the whole ordeal appeared arbitrary at best.  
  
Deciding you wouldn't piss your mother off for the rest of the night, you retired to your room. Peeling off dirty clothes, you hopped in the shower in hopes to clear your head.  
  
'She's even making me fabricate my own documents,' you internally frowned. You hated making your own legal documents. It only reminded you that you didn't technically exist to the government. You weren't born officially, instead swept under the covers to allow for easy forging and evasion. It weighed on your mind after learning the fact. These days, you've learned how to keep your emotions at bay.  
  
Stepping out of the shower, you gazed in the mirror. A blank face reflected back, and you scowled, averting your eyes in favor of your towel.  
  
_'I can't believe a stupid favor is making Mother stoop this low,'_ You thought in disdain. While it wasn't the first time she's screwed you over, this time definitely took the fucking cake. Bringing your eyes to reach the mirror, you saw black and red stare back. 'Damn it, I'm getting too emotional.'  
  
Taking deep breaths, you forced a façade of calm. _'I just hope I'm in the General Studies course.'_  
  


* * *

  
Your mother played you like a goddamn fiddle and put you into the fucking _business course_. You had to prove your knowledge in the _stock market_. It was an all-time-low in your already depressingly low life.  
  
"What the hell am I going to achieve in the business course?" You had shrieked.  
  
A smirk danced on your mother's lips as you cursed, a headache promptly making a home in your cranium. "I have heard that the business course learns about the ins-and-outs of Yuuei as well as other agencies. Besides, they even do hands-on lessons in adventure capitalism!" She boisterously laughed in your face. Mother had a streak of torturing you, whether it be physical, or in this case, mental.  
  
Your pity party ended when your teacher introduced themselves. You didn't bother even catching their name; you were planning on zoning out for the next month, anyways. Mother hinted at transferring to a different course after the notorious Sports Festival. Then, the second phase of your operation would begin. That was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. While you certainly wouldn't call yourself a hero, you would take heroism over business classes any day.  
  
"It's now time for the entrance ceremony," The unnamed sensei drawled. The business course nerds around you jumped at the announcement. You reluctantly got out of your seat and blindly followed your classmates. Some had attempted to interact with you, but you just brushed them off. Turning your cheek, you immersed yourself in thoughts of your mission.  
  
' _It's likely that I'll need to acquaint myself with some hero brats. Perhaps I will see them at the ceremony,"_ Your mental capabilities then steeply declined as you slowly went brain dead, surrounded with talk of the economy.  
  
Time passed in a dull blur. The only revelation you made was that class 1-A, half of the hero course first years, appeared to be missing. You did catch a fleeting conversation with a rather eccentric 1-B student. With that, you decided to keep your hero networking to lunchtime.  
  
' _Whatever 1-A is doing is probably a lot more interesting than what's happening here.'_ You sighed as the vermin yelled, "Plus Ultra!". You half-heartedly rose your right fist in tandem with your peers. Plastering a small smile on your lips, you recalled that you were to be in-character. You knew that your regular personality wasn't the most agreeable, so you decided to go with a quiet identity, at least for your business course peers. It didn't require much upkeep, and the ability to ignore people without qualms was a plus. You could figure out your hero character later.  
  
The entrance ceremony concluded with a dull roar of students. The hallways were packed to exit, so you knocked into people left and right. You found the erratic contact to be troublesome, though to maintain your façade, you couldn't do much about it. Upon assessing your surroundings, you found someone who played the quiet and shy character remarkably well. His ears were pointed and airbrushed with pink as he shivered anxiously. The sheer helplessness almost made you sprout maternal instincts. Before that catastrophic event happened, a blond male whisked him away.  
  
_'His build was satisfactory. Not too much fat and not excessive bulk; I'm sure teeth would sink in nicely, though his timid nature might seep through the taste..."_ You pondered off-handedly. The hallways gradually cleared, and you made it back to your damned class.   
  
Homeroom was as enervating as expected. A bleak introduction to the business course was made, allowing you to get the feel for the expectations. As much as you hated to admit, in order to make it into the hero course, you'd have to be exceptional. While this certainly didn't mean you'd suddenly become a suck-up, you'd have to catch some information to maintain good grades.  
  
You took note of the children around you. Before your eyes, cliques were assembling. You had been invited into a few, but you shook them off by turning the other cheek in favor of your detached and nervous acting. This tactic, however, didn't stop all of the chucklefucks, so you adopted a more forward approach: the awkward silence.  
  
"Hi, I'm Miyoshi Shizue! Pleased to make your acquaintance!" A sniffy extra shouted. After the ringing in your ears dissipated, you hardened your gaze downward, attempting to ignore the raven-haired boy. A chill dropped over the both of you in awkward tension, exactly as planned. His expectant face alone made you want to rip his limbs off one by one. You had to restrain yourself from glaring at the boy, keeping your eyes downward in a bloodlust-driven rattle.  
  
_'Maybe this whole quiet thing won't work out..."_ You sweatdropped, calming your bloodlust down. It wasn't like you to not assume character naturally, but the persona was simply everything you weren't. _'If this doesn't work out, I can always try being aggressive.'  
  
_"So you're the modest type, huh?" A girl suddenly appeared. Glaring yellow hair and rectangular glasses met your gaze. "Saeki Chiyuri! And you are...?" You grimaced. The side-characters were relentless. It wasn't like you were going to remember their names anyways.  
  
Sickening attempts at begging lead you to give in, if only to get them to leave you alone. You told them your first name in a short and nervous manner. You had a feeling the two wouldn't be significant, but going around boasting your last name was bound to attract someone who actually knew of your family. Your clan may have been a classified case, but Yuuei had some fairly high-class students. You even heard that dirtbag's son was recommended...  
  
The announcement for lunch couldn't have reached your awaiting ears sooner. You practically bolted out of the classroom, leaving your square classmates in the dust.  
  
"Whoa! Lunch Rush makes all of the cafeteria food!"  
  
"I know! I bet it tastes amazing! I can't wait to try the soba..."  
  
The stench of cooking food hit you in the face like a slap to an ex. Your nose wanted to shrivel up and fall off, but you got by with only a twitch of the nostrils.  
  
' _I know I ate human food before I got my quirk, but I don't remember what it tasted like,'_ You thought, a hand met your chin in contemplation. While vague memories of rice came to mind, few other dishes seemed to surface. Now, rice stuck in your mouth like glue. You internally sighed, ' _I wonder if I've ever had cake.'  
  
_Your train of thought abruptly crashed at the calling of your name. Eyes wandering to meet the source, all you could see were a cluster of squares at a table. Shaking your head as to rid the picture, you caught sight of the blonde girl. She smiled at you expectantly, but you had other things in mind.  
  
_'While I don't mind quadrilaterals, I should go find some hero toys,'_ You briskly walked away from the table of shapes, pretending as if you didn't see them. Scanning the room for sore thumbs, you saw the strange 1-B student from earlier. He was cackling until a tangerine girl chopped him in the neck. The boy crumpled, and you determined you liked the girl. You made your way over to the amusing duo.  
  
Putting on as pleasant of a face as you could manage, you asked, "I-is there any room for one more?" The orange girl seemed to brighten up as she gestured to an open seat. You plopped down and arranged an insecure smile on your face. The deranged boy turned to look at you with slate-colored eyes.  
  
"Oh, you're that one girl! I think I saw you at the opening ceremony, drooling over a senpai," The blond male said amusedly, snickering once more. He promptly shut up when the girl brought up her hand. Your eyes widened imperceptibly. The crazy guy seemed to notice more than you had originally thought. You'd have to keep your body composition assessments closer to your chest from now on.  
  
You shakily laughed. "A-ah, you saw that? I was just a little worried for him that's a-all." While it wasn't a dealbreaker, Monoma catching you watching that elf boy wasn't the most pleasant of subjects. You diverted the topic by asking for their names.  
  
"I'm Kendo Itsuka. That idiot over there is Monoma Neito," Kendo pointed over to the blond.  
  
Monoma seemed discontent with his introduction and spilled into an elaborate dissection of his quirk, Copy. While it was interesting at first, when he began to get into his life's story in French, you tuned out. Kendo came to your rescue and performed the same chop to the neck you saw previously.  
  
_'Even if his quirk is concerning, his personality just might be worse.'  
  
_"Sorry 'bout that. What's your name?" The ginger smiled kindly at you, raising a hand in apology. You faked another stutter and gave her your first name.  
  
"I'm in class 1-K, the business course," You bashfully supplied. Momentarily, they seemed to question making friends with a business student--Monoma in particular. You couldn't blame them anyway; veins popped when you thought of your mother's class choice. Kendo folded her hands with a "that's nice".  
  
The lunch period was uneventful for the most part, Monoma made jesting comments on your class, and Kendo would smack him. A boy named Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu even joined in on the fun. All in all, immersion with hero course students went swimmingly.  
  
You eyed Tetsutetsu. _'Do his parents not love him? Are they not sound in the head? If I address him as Tetsutetsu, does he assume I'm calling him by his last name or his first? Does he ever ask people to call him by his first name? He said his quirk was Steel or something like that, so maybe his flavor is metallic?'  
  
_The grey-haired boy warily looked back at you. The whole table was anxious at your blatant staring.  
  
"Uh, hey," Kendo waved her hand in front of your eyes, effectively obstructing your view of Tetsutetsu. "What are you thinking about?"  
  
"I wonder what Tetsutetsu tastes like..." You murmured airily in thought.  
  
"E-eh!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for reading! I hope you guys enjoy this Wednesday update, as promised~ I believe I will be updating next Wednesday, as well. 
> 
> I hoped you all liked the 1-B interaction and Tamaki cameo haha ^^
> 
> What do you think about the choice of class?
> 
> Please stay safe and healthy!
> 
> 2563 words


	5. 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳

It had been two days after the Tetsutetsu fiasco. Your shy alter-ego was never allowed to live it down. The group brought it up after you met Reiko Yanagi and Ibara Shiozaki (both of which didn’t seem to care) the next lunch. It seemed as though you were getting well integrated with class 1-B, even to the extent of your 1-K classmates sending bewildered looks.  
  
You supposed it was a little strange. A shy business student like you became so familiar with the distant hero course, but not your own class.  
  
_‘Maybe to cut down on suspicion I should make some nerd friends,’_ You had thought, hyper-aware of the stares you felt when sitting with the wannabe heroes.  
  
The vast majority of people in the business course stay in the business course. Aspiring heroes who didn’t quite make the cut are swept to the general studies department. Because of this, your relationships were scrutinized and questioned. Already, you heard of rumors that you had ulterior motives. Whispers behind your back appeared at the end of your first day.  
  
_‘Is it really that weird to be friends with another course?’_ You thought, plucking your tie from your bedroom floor. The room was a mess: an unmade bed, half-empty instant coffee containers littered the floor, and various clothing was spilling out of your closet. You discovered early on that a chaotic room irked your mother, but not enough for her to say much. It was a small victory that filled you with prideful glee.  
  
Trotting down the stairs, you were met with an uncannily cheerful mother.  
  
“Today is a big day!” She proclaimed, a sickening smile adorning her twisted face. “I assume you read over the plans last night?”  
  
You nodded. Seared into your head was the task assigned to you. Media had gotten word of All Might working at Yuuei. They were to serve as a distraction while you gained intel on the blond hulk’s whereabouts. You would find his schedule and send the information back to the League. Of course, the task was nothing but a side-quest to you, so you weren’t nervous whatsoever. After all, the contact was minimal; you weren’t even to be involved with the attack.  
  
Your mother held out a severed arm, her smile shrinking into something more sinister. “It’s to give you energy, so you don’t fuck it up.” Her cheery exterior was completely stripped, leaving her true form. She watched intently as you devoured the appendage. You wondered where she had gotten the meat. You stripped the flesh off the bone. The flavor popped sporadically in your mouth as you chewed thoughtfully. The muscle held a distinct, yet familiar tang, much like a pungent smell outside a fast-food restaurant.   
  
You were used to your mother’s faulty hunting. She didn’t care for body composition, only those that would give the most satisfying face as death took them. It was part of the reason you developed a keen eye for the muscle and fat distribution on a human. The only time you ate well was when you hunted for it yourself.  
  
Sneering with distaste, you refrained from commenting. You disposed of the bone and washed your face and arms. Pulling on your backpack, you walked out the door, omitting a goodbye.  
  
Upon nearing the entrance of Yuuei, you were met with a sight even more objectionable than your breakfast. Even with a heads-up beforehand, the media swarm that enclosed the gates surprised you in its sheer obnoxiousness. Reporters swerved left and right, pouncing upon anyone with a uniform like prey. It took all of your willpower to refrain from pouncing back.  
  
“What’s it like to see All Might at school?”  
  
“Is All Might a good teacher?”  
  
The reporters’ intrusive questioning was relentless. They didn’t seem to be able to distinguish hero students from non-hero students. Being a measly business student, you had yet to bear witness to the symbol of peace.  
  
Simply ignoring the press and giving death stares here and there, you were able to bypass the crowd with relative ease. Not long after you had crossed the Yuuei Barrier, an insolent quisquilian attempted to follow. The barrier shut with a deafening clang, and a shrill yelp ensued. You almost wished the woman had gotten crushed by the barrier, with all the commotion she was making. Though, you didn’t know how well you could control yourself in front of a corpse at that moment, as your breakfast did little to satiate you.  
  
Grunting with irritation, you made your way to Class 1-K. Everything appeared to get on your nerves, and you feared it wouldn’t relent. Inside of the classroom, your classmates’ bustle hushed as you entered.  
  
“She’s the one that sits with the hero course.”  
  
"Isn't that kind of weird? I mean, we're business students."  
  
"Yeah, plus she seems to avoid us..."  
  
Your ears caught gossip from every corner. It had become a regular occurrence the day before, and you quickly acclimated. They didn’t seem to detest you; rather, they were wary of you. The bad part about pissing off nerds is the fact that they’re smart.  
  
_‘They must’ve figured out I ignored them, only to go over to the hero’s table,’_ You determined, biting your cheek. The previous lunch, the blonde pest reached out to you again, only for you to turn your cheek. _‘How do I redeem myself, I wonder. This could prove to be burdensome in the future if they don’t like me.”  
  
_Sighing, you concluded that reaching out at this point would go against your character. You would have to suck it up and wait until someone approaches you again.   
  
_'Next time, I'll acknowledge them.'_  
  
“Today, class, we will be deciding our class representative!” Your bothersome teacher walked in and spouted, earning an intense reaction from the class. Hands rocketed to the ceiling, one kid even used his quirk to detach one hand, only to raise it higher with the other.  
  
_‘What the fuck? Why is everyone so eager to be a rep?’  
  
_“Now, now, kids. Let's resolve this like the sophisticated businessmen and women we are, yes?” The class immediately silenced. A gloom blanketed the room. “We can even incorporate a bit of roleplay. Let’s pretend you are all stockholders…” You instantly tuned out. In the end, you raised your hand for ‘Saeki Chiyuri’, whoever the fuck that was. You only raised your hand because other kids did, although the name did feel familiar.  
  
The title of deputy was given to another rando, a coconut head with a wonky smile. He bowed so far you could almost feel his vertebrate click and pop one-by-one.  
  
Time slowed to an excruciating crawl, and you ended up excusing yourself to the bathroom to escape. Your pace was barely that of a snail as you made your way to the washroom. You realized that you never stepped into one of Yuuei’s bathrooms before, as you would’ve remembered the agonizing pain your eyes were met with. A dizzying blue-tone white coated the walls and pierced your eyes.  
  
The school clearly went with an American theme--the one-inch space between the wall and stall door made that much clear.  
  
You were once again assailed by sensory-overload. A scream reached your ears when your brain-fog cleared. It hit you that you had spaced out while looking through the stall’s crack.  
  
“P-pervert! W-who are you?” A whiny voice called from inside.  
  
_‘Fuck, you really have done it now.’_ It definitely wasn’t one of your best moments. Maybe you could just slip outside-  
  
A stall door crashed open, A chestnut-bobbed girl was fuming, assuming bent knees and ready to fight. Still dazed by the walls, you only managed an airy chuckle.  
  
“I-I’m really sorry, I just spaced out looking at the gap! I really didn’t register anything, so if you’re worried about your privacy…” You trailed off, fueling your shy acting with your genuine fluster.  
  
The girl kept an eye on you, creeping toward the sinks with shaky steps. You heard her heartbeat slow to a somewhat-normal rate.  
  
_‘Her entire face was red earlier, so I didn’t realize that her face seems to have permanent blush,'_ You analyzed. You almost wanted to pinch the pink ovals and rip them off her face.

  
“W-why are you still looking at me?” The girl whined, arms crossed.  
  
Sheepishly, you swept a lock of hair behind your ear, assembling your friendliest face. “I m-meant it when I said I was sorry, I just think you’re i-interesting.” The brunette’s eyes widened. “Ah! I didn’t mean that I was purposefully watching you! I just-”  
  
“It’s okay,” The girl cut you off with a smile. “I can see now that you didn’t mean it! Plus, you seem a little awkward--b-but that’s okay, of course! Let’s be friends, I’m Uraraka Ochako from Class 1-A!” Her hands templed together, and her knees bent inward.  
  
You were partially relieved that she bought your act, but it also bothered you that she overcame the ordeal so quickly.  
  
_‘So trusting. I wonder what would happen if I held her face, only to dig my fingers deep underneath her skin. I wonder what look of betrayal she’d give me.’_ You shook the thoughts out of your head. _‘Mother’s mentality is getting to me.’_  
  
You stammered out your first name, as per usual. The mention of your class washed a look of shock over her features. Before you could blink; however, she had a smile on once again.  
  
“Oh! I’ve never met someone from the business course before. Let’s talk again sometime, j-just don’t do that again, okay?” The pink-cheeked girl gestured to the stalls. You timidly inclined your head in agreement. Satisfied with your answer, she waved goodbye before stepping out of the bathroom.  
  
Grunting, you watched the girl leave. _‘I should really work on not getting into these awkward situations.’_  
  
You walked to the sink and splashed your face as you originally intended. The cool water drew streams down your cheeks, and you wondered when you last cried. Tapping the liquid dry, the bell rang for lunch.  
  
_‘That’s my cue.’_  
  
Shigaraki “Shiggy” (as you nicknamed him in your head) Tomura was to assist you on this small mission. During the lunch period, he would disintegrate the main gate, allowing for the press to break in. From past records, Yuuei’s security level three hasn’t been broken in decades. The alarm was sure to cause panic in third and first years alike, granting you a cover to slip past suspicions.  
  
Waltzing in the vague direction of the office, you waited for the signal. You examined your nails and came up with a simple excuse if a teacher caught you.  
  
_‘Tch, that crusty-ass bitch should really hurry u-’_  
  
Your critical monologue was cut off by a resounding alarm.  
  
 **“Security level three has been broken. All students. Please evacuate in an orderly fashion.”  
  
**You smiled and nimbly bolted to the office. While the students and staff would initially be caught off guard, it only took one person to realize it was just the media. You had to make this one quickly, and make it count.   
  
It was really shitty that the principal’s office was on the top floor since you had to climb the never-ending stairs three at a time. Part of you was tempted to go ghoul, but that would be even harder to explain if you were to be caught.  
  
Finally, you made it to the plain room. Nezu’s desk stood in the center, uncluttered.   
  
You groaned at the tidiness, _'I'm gonna have to clean all my shit up at the end, aren't I?'  
  
_You made quick work of shuffling through the files. Your thumb prodded the filed papers until you found the schedule.  
  
‘Rescue training with Thirteen, Eraserhead, and All Might, huh?’ You toyed with the idea. The location was perfect. The USJ was on the outskirts of the campus, ideal for an infiltration. You huffed, silently closing the drawer. Slipping out of the room, you messaged Shiggy a report.  
  
_‘Let’s hope the League of Losers doesn't fuck it up.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again~ This chapter might've been a bit boring;;; I don't know if y'all can tell, but I'm just rushing to get to the Sports Festival at this point lol. Probably one buffer chapter, and then it'll be into the good stuff!
> 
> I wanted to let you guys know that I post updates on chapter readiness, as well as hints of drawings I've been working on~ Just a thought haha (make sure to check it out sometime!)
> 
> SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT QUESTION!!!
> 
> What love interests/platonic interests do you guys want?
> 
> If nothing else, please answer this question;;; I don't know who you guys like (but I did make the reader nearly an adult for diversity purposes, though I won't do Aizawa, Yamada, etc.) Personally, I am super biased towards Shouto, so he's going to be in it for sure.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Special thanks to those who comment :) I really appreciate them
> 
> 2234 words


	6. 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew up the reader's character profile! Please tell me what you think~ This is my third time attempting digital art, so please keep that in mind haha. I actually have a colored version if you guys wish to see that. I was hesitant to color the skin and hair, but I thought it might look awkward if I left them blank;; If you have any suggestions, in terms of coloring or new things to draw, please let me know!
> 
> Edit: I changed it from handwriting to actual text to make it easier to read :3 I also switched from [l/n] -> Koukai

The League of Losers did, in fact, fuck it up. To your disdain, the flaky brat and his pet dog, Misty, fled with their tails between their legs. The pair even lost its trump card to All Might in an epic one-on-one battle. To say the least, you weren’t pleased. The loss meant you had to stay at the wretched hero school until they succeeded, and you guessed you’d be here much, much longer.  
  
The fact that Yuuei was a hero school wasn’t what rubbed your _kagune_ the wrong way, it was the societal norms around the hero trope. You, yourself, sat in a grey area between hero and villain--something that simply wasn’t palatable in the world that only knows black and white. Being around the heroes-in-the-making only furthered your suspicion: you didn’t belong. Not with the villains, and certainly not with the heroes.  
  
Kurogiri, to your chagrin, made the comment to you while filling you in on the USJ attack details. You were asked to visit the League of Lemurs’ hideout at midnight, and you begrudgingly complied.  
  
The incident was fresh on your mind, and you were relentless with scolding. The portal was an exceptional punching bag, offering little-to-no reaction, which only served to fuel your rage.  
  
You stuck a pointed finger at the overdressed bartender. “I did _not_ go through all that work only for you guys to be beaten by a handful of glorified children! Shigaraki was so confident too, that sniveling little sewer _bitch!_ I don’t know how much you pay Mother, but I can tell you right now it’s not enough!”  
  
Kurogiri only exhaled with exhaustion (how, exactly, he breathed was beyond you). “‘My dear lacking one, your parents failed in raising you.’ Mercenary work is unbecoming of such talent. You are an outcast, which is why you’d be much better off with us," He drawled, reciting an elevator pitch to join the League of Legends.  
  
You were thoroughly vexed. “Kurogiri, what the fuck is up with you? ‘My dear lacking one?’ And don’t talk bad about mercenaries. I’m perfectly fine being a societal vagabond.”  
  
The mist gate appeared genuinely perplexed, cocking his foggy purple head in inquisitiveness. “Are you not familiar with The Black Goat’s Egg? What I just said was an excerpt.” The title had bounced in your head like an old computer’s sleep screen.  
  
 _‘The Black Goat’s Egg? Why is that title familiar?’  
  
_“My apologies. Your situation appeared quite… similar to the main character’s. I assumed you had read it.” Kurogiri shuffled behind the bar and prodded around in a corner cabinet. Eventually, his undulating head popped up, and he slid you a rather gruesome looking book. “I digress. In any sense, you should still consider joining the League. It’s unsightly to see stragglers in this world. You must pick a side to survive.”  
  
You snarled. The low-class villain just couldn’t stop pestering you about it. Not as if you’d join the juvenile league, regardless. The repeated offenses on both sides to you and your relatives made you rather fond of the grey area; there were no strings attached, and everybody, for the most part, minded their own business.  
  
_‘First, he pokes fun at mercenaries, and then he goes and tries to recruit me? Bitch, you’re using a mercenary. If anything, it makes me less inclined to comply.’_ You tsked and snatched the book from the counter, giving the faceless purple blob a glare. _‘He’s not getting anything more out of me, save for the bird.’  
  
_The man who occupied your nerves called your name. “Your job isn’t done. This is barely the beginning of what the League has planned. Naturally, you will continue to be compensated for your work. I will brief you in the future, but for now, please focus on being transferred to the hero course. It’s essential for information-gathering for the near future.”  
  
_‘At least the man had the sense to reel it in,’_ You thought bitterly. Nodding a reluctant agreement, you exited the hideout. Your mother would be furious if you decided to back out on the mission, and you decided that you didn’t need her to be angrier than she already is. This became doubly true, considering you had the day off tomorrow.  
  
Your mood soured as you walked home. You were not looking forward to mommy-daughter bonding time tomorrow. In fact, the second the idea graced your thoughts, a grimace crawled its way onto your face and died. Yes, the entire week was utterly unpleasant.  
  
In the time given to recuperate, you decided to draw up your special request for a support item. It was nothing special--just a simple one-way blindfold to conceal your lineage. To protect your identity, all you really had to do was cover your eyes. As absurd as it was, the Commission of Counter Ghoul (CCG for short) could only recognize ghouls by their eyes and feeding attempts. They had minuscule amounts of knowledge on _kagunes_ , seeing as they are often mistaken as quirks. Of course, you wouldn’t try to be flashy with your _kagune_ and raise unwanted attention, but you did have to make it far in the Sports Festival. A minimalist approach, if you will.  
  
Writing up the note, you listed the blindfold as a necessity to “protect your eyes” as they “get very sensitive when quirk is in use”. Basic forgery named your quirk as "tentacles" in Yuuei records. It was a cherished time when your non-existent identity was helpful.  
  
Finishing your request with a loopy and illegible signature, you stowed it away in your backpack. The deep violet of midnight melted into something lighter, and you realized your eyes drooped with a lack of sleep. Yawning while reaching your arms far above your head, you heard a distinct pop of your back. Sighing with content, you flopped onto your mattress.  
  
‘Maybe I can just sleep this break away. . .’

  
∙  
  
∙  
  
∙

  
You couldn’t. Almost as if your body was spiting your existence, your slumber lasted two hours, tops. How the nature of your body was so cruel, you weren’t sure.  
  
_‘Fucking hell,’_ You thought, clumsily rubbing your eyes of sleep. Your body was dead tired the night prior, and not much changed. _‘It was basically a nap. This is bullshit.’  
  
_Your lungs grabbed air deeply as you fumbled out of bed in search of coffee. Luckily, your mother was away, likely tormenting a poor soul. Pouring a cup of the murky liquid, you sat down in irritation. Your leg jumped without your command, and your fingers were inept in their execution. Aggravation brewed in your stomach, much like your coffee. The morning was young, and your day was already turning bitter.  
  
The beverage met your chapped lips in searing heat, but you gulped it down with vigor. The full-bodied heat divulged into sweet undertones, and you closed your eyes in bliss. Coffee was one of the small mercies the world offered you. You had just recently bought the dark roast from your local cafe. You were pleasantly surprised at how robust and bold the flavors were. One of the better homemade drinks you’ve made, for sure.  
  
Setting your cup down, you fiddled with the mug, deciding what you’d do for the day.  
  
_‘Perhaps I should catch up on homework.’  
  
_Homework was almost entirely an afterthought in your life. It made you feel so childish, to do work for a grade far beneath you. The contents were bland, compulsory subjects nearly lulling you into a coma.  
  
While not having an official education, the physics, biochemistry, and many other components of your quirk allowed you to have studied most sciences and mathematics practically. Foreign languages were a breeze, seeing that it was mandatory in general assassination. You also knew you were smarter than most; by simply tuning in for approximately half of a lecture, completed homework or not, you managed an A in all of your classes. Well, except foundational business. That class sucked ass.  
  
Despite your (mostly) pristine marks, your grades could use a boost to ensure your graduation to the hero course. You bit the bullet and pulled out your modern literature homework. Mindlessly writing a book report, your mind wandered.  
  
 _‘Being a management student, should I notify the staff of my intentions? I presume they don’t expect someone from the business course to aim for the heroics classes, but still. If I get high enough rankings, shouldn’t they suggest it on their own? It’s possible they would laugh in my face if I asked beforehand, seeing as they have no knowledge of my prowess_ _. ._ _.’  
  
_Groaning at your book report, your competent sentences trailed off into something incomprehensible. Several varying thoughts strung together stared back at you, and you bit your lip.  
  
_‘Should I ask or not?’_  
  


* * *

  
Your walk to the guidance office was short, and you made it to Hound Dog’s at 14:15 on the dot. In the end, you decided to ask. After all, you didn’t even know if business students could transfer. Of course, if that were the case, you would make it happen anyway.   
  
Walking into the secluded room, you sweatdropped. _‘Aren’t guidance counselors supposed to be, I don’t know, approachable? The mutt’s got one hell of a presence.’  
  
_A bulky, sand-colored man with a surprisingly slender face sat before you. Furs that lined his costume and untamed tufts of blond added to his “wild” look.  
  
“Schedule for 14:20?” Hound Dog looked up at you from a stack of papers. You were amazed at how you could attain an appointment for the next day. Yuuei truly was legendary, one email, and the meeting was scheduled. Granted, it wasn’t the designated curriculum counselor, but you were feeling lenient.  
  
You nodded. “That is correct,” You glanced at the silver-finished plaque on the desk, “Inui-sensei.”  
  
Once exchanging small talk of how you were settling in, you delved into your plan to get into the hero course. “I believe that I have the power and will to make it in the heroics department.” You eased into it. Hound Dog’s canine-esque facial features were virtually unreadable, though you could sense some curiosity mingling with amusement.  
  
“You have a strong will! I think you should chase your dreams while you’re still young. You are in the business course?” He looked at your papers with rapt attention. “Why did you choose that?”  
  
You could infer what Hound Dog was attempting to convey. “I was just getting to that,” You smiled.  
  
The man appeared fairly awkward, but overall altruistic. You supposed a great deal of it also had to do with the fact that he typically dealt with less school-affiliated affairs in appointments.  
  
“Originally, I had wanted to own my own hero agency and just manage on the sidelines. However, when I came to Yuuei, the other students here inspired me to be more. Now I think I want to be an underground hero.” You imitated starry eyes and an embarrassed flush. Pushing your knees and spine closer, your bashful act was impeccable.  
  
Hound Dog took to your show of emotions. “I see! That is very respectable! You should reach for your dreams in the Sports Festival! If you make it into the final four, I’m sure the other staff will be willing to transfer you!” You brightened, posture becoming more relaxed.  
  
_‘Only the top four? That’s easy enough.’_ You thought. The sports festival typically had a one v. one as it’s the third round. You would probably want to lie low before then, keeping in the lower ranks before showing any spirit. You thanked Inui and bowed, leaving with a grin on your face.  
  
Only about twenty minutes had passed, and the sixth period was still in the midst of things. You heard gossip of a declaration of war on Class 1-A during lunch, and you were eager. From what you could tell, it was mostly general studies students going. That being said, you were going to be a contender in the Sports Festival, so you decided to make your presence known as well.  
  
Post-classes, you itched to get to Class 1-A. As you neared the heroics department, the chatter increased tenfold. A vast crowd of grey-clad kids cramped around 1-A’s shoji door. The mass’ heads all inclined toward the door, anxiously anticipating the door’s opening. Playing a game of leapfrog to get towards the front, the door finally gave way to the pink-cheeked girl you met days prior.  
  
Widening her stance, the girl screeched, “What’s going on?” The classmates behind her halted, taking notice of the large body of people. An obnoxious blond emerged, yapping about “scoping out the competition”. While he evidently wasn’t wrong, the delinquent-looking hedgehog pissed you off. You would crush him mercilessly in the Sports Festival, and you would relish it.  
  
“We’re the kids who survived a villain attack. It makes sense they’d want a look before the Sports Festival.” The stocky boy barked about cannon fodder, sufficiently angering everyone in the vicinity. The crowd surged, craniums jerking in refusal.  
  
A purple-headed boy with eyebags for two took the words out of your mouth: “It’s true. We came to get a look, but you sure are modest.” The congregation ebbed around him, and he perused his way up to the blondie. “Are all the kids in the hero course like this one?”  
  
Eyebags took the lead, voicing the thoughts of the crowd and explaining the transferral opportunities for other courses. “Consider this a declaration of war,” He finished. You slow-clapped, making your move to the front. Eyes shot to you, wondering what you’d add on.  
  
“I must say, what I see so far is disappointing,” Glued eyes enlarged, a certain brunette in particular.  
  
_‘Shit! I forgot I’m supposed to be fucking shy, damn it!’_ You cleared your throat, raising your gaze to the spiky-haired asshole.  
  
“Just because you’re in the hero course now, doesn’t mean you can be cocky!” You backpedaled. “We all have our chance now, too, and we’re going to take it!”  
  
An angry Tetsutetsu materialized, luring attention away from you. You exhaled relief, ‘Damn this ‘shy hero’ character.’ You had heard enough of the declaration of war, stepping back into the crowd and effectively disappearing. Wading your way to the outskirts, a hand plucked up your wrist.  
  
“Pervert!” The voice blurted. You swung around to see a bright red-faced girl before you.  
  
_‘What was her name? Ura… Something…?’  
  
_Pink cheeks covered her mouth in mortification as nearby students watched the two of you. “I-I didn’t mean-! It’s me! Uraraka Ochako!” She addressed you with a sickeningly sweet “chan” tacked at the end.  
  
Your eyebrow twitched, _‘’Chan’? I know I gave her my first name, but that’s only because she can’t know my last.’_ You covered your frown and greeted her with equal enthusiasm.  
  
“I noticed you were at the declaration of war! Are you planning on trying for the hero course?” She asked politely, head cocked in question. You nodded. The air relaxed as people cleared out of the area, departing the school. Clatters of shoes and voices soon dissipated, leaving you, Uraraka, and a few other lingerers.  
  
Smiling, you looked at the girl. “Yes, I plan to try my best at the Sports Festival!” Artificial ardor coated your features in a thick mask. A pair of males walked up to you two.  
  
“Uraraka-san! Do you plan to leave together today as well?” A stiff bluet asked, waving his arms mechanically. A timid broccoli boy stood near the bluet, obviously questioning your presence.  
  
Uraraka’s face brightened, and her hands met in delight. “Ah! Yes, Iida-kun, I will come with you guys. Oh, and this is my friend from the business department!” Uraraka gave your name, pointing at you. You bowed in acknowledgment. Iida stiffened and inquired at your lack of a last name.  
  
You brushed it off with a wave. “I-it’s fine to just call me by my first name, I don’t mind. My last name is a bit…” You trailed off, hoping they understood.  
  
The bespectacled male nodded, “I am Iida Tenya of Class 1-A! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance!” You turned to the greenet, awaiting his introduction.  
  
Midoriya had, for the most part, been able to converse with girls. Progressing since his first meeting with Uraraka, he prided himself on his continued interactions with his female friend. This pride was swept away, however, when his eyes met yours. Something about your eyes and the way they seemed to look into him unnerved him. He felt as if you could read his thoughts or know everything he was going to do.  
  
“I-I’m M-Midoriya Izuku!” Midoriya bowed steeply, lifting a giggle from your lips. The awkwardness emanated from the boy in tangible waves. He would be a fun one to play with.  
  
Beaming, you pulled a blush to your cheeks. “It’s very nice to meet you, Midoriya-san, and you too, Iida-san!” Midoriya was as red as a firetruck at this point, and Iida was inwardly flustered, a small rosy tint appearing on his face. Uraraka didn’t seem to notice, though, and pulled on your arm.  
  
“Do you want to walk with us to the station?” The bobbed girl asked. You shook your hea. d  
  
“I-uh actually don’t ride home on the train,” You supplied, quickly adding on “Thank you though, I appreciate the offer!”  
  
Uraraka smiled and opened her mouth, but Iida quickly responded before she could get the chance. “It’s the least we could do as peers!”  
  
The energy was being sapped from your being the longer the conversation carried on. You tried to hide the burgeoning irritation inside you. “Still, I’m grateful you thought to include me. I’ll see you guys around?” The trio nodded with warm features. You waved and split off from them, pleased you wouldn’t have to spend more time conversing.  
  
The peaceful walk home was short-lived. The increasing size of your front door made your face contract into a scowl. Judging by the lights, your mother was home.  
  
You silently crept through the front door, careful to avoid extra noise. You hoped to any higher being that you could evade the witch that birthed you.  
  
“Just what are you doing?” Your mother had a displeased look written across her face. Your stance immediately widened, straightening your back into a stiff line.  
  
_‘God is dead.’  
  
_A growl erupted from the back of your throat. “Nothing,” You curtly responded, sidestepping. Mother scoffed, a cup of decaf clutched in her spindly hands.  
  
Your house was a convenient size. Not too big, not too small. Just large enough for you and the witch to fortuitously forget the other existed from time-to-time. Those benign times didn’t last nearly as long as you wish, however. Even if you did actively avoid your mother, the scheming rat would counter by actively seeking you out just as much.  
  
Slouching off your backpack, you poured yourself a cup of Mother’s decaf coffee. Her tongue clicked, but she didn’t say anything about your freeloading. Instead, she decided to nag you.  
  
“You need to train for the Sports Festival. If you don’t make it into the hero course, you’ll regret it. Not only that but have you learned anything useful in your classes? You never report to me.” The crease between your mother’s eyebrows deepened, and her lip curled with acidity. “Surely you aren’t slacking off, are you?”  
  
A caustic glare shut her up, though barely. “The business course was a miscalculation. We won’t attain much information on the school’s inner workings until the second term. And no, I am not slacking off. I maintain straight A’s, and nobody suspects a thing,” You spat out, teeth clenched in restraint.  
  
You knew when to hold back, and whenever it came to your mother, you did. While she was uncivil and corrupt, right down to her last drop of blood, she was powerful. Much more powerful than you, in fact, but that was subject to change. You bit your tongue, impatiently awaiting the day you could pay your mother back for the hell you’ve gone through.  
  
“Very well. I want you to train more for the upcoming trial. Don’t disappoint.” With that, she left. You, not wanting anything to do with her, slipped to your room in the opposite direction.  
  
Cryptic thoughts swam in your skull and pounded in your brain. Hushing them, you began writing up a training regime. You were indubitably far superior in strength and brains compared to any freshman. You had an advantage in both age and experience, and no doubts plagued you.  
  
Nonetheless, you worked on an approach, if not for your mother’s constant pestering, but for ease of mind. It was already decided that you wouldn’t show your true colors until the final round.  
  
‘Considering the preliminary event would begin with 220 students, they would need to narrow it down considerably. Maybe around forty make it through? That means I would want to be in the mid-thirties. From then on, it’s all about taking a sly approach. The second round isn’t as clear-cut as the third and first, meaning I don’t know what to expect…’ Methods raced as quickly as lightning. The dusk settled with stars sprinkled throughout.  
  
Most things remained uncertain, but one thing was sure.  
  
_‘This Sports Festival will be a fun one.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for reading! There are a lot of hearts, and it makes me wonder if you guys would like a ____ heart special? I don't know if I'd do a chapter though, but maybe an art with the reader and a favorite character? Either way, it's just a thought :)
> 
> I currently have a running list of the characters you all want! Kirishima is surprisingly popular haha Feel free to keep adding to the list~ Please don't forget that I won't do those who are older than their early twenties, as the reader is seventeen.
> 
> Question of the week! I tried out something a little longer this time, but unfortunately, this makes it harder to edit. I wanna know what y'all think~ Do you guys like the longer chapters? I can't fathom editing anything over five thousand, so if y'all want it to be longer than that, it's not gon be edited lol (not that I mind haha) The more interesting, side question of the week:
> 
> Are y'all hype for the Sports Festival? I know I am ^^
> 
> On a self-progress note, editing is easier because I am making fewer mistakes (I think)! I run this through Grammarly, and I think writing this has helped me improve! I am also searching for ways to make my writing more interesting, so if you have any suggestions, do tell! 
> 
> Completely unrelated, but I learned I can type 75 words per minute? You'd think that allow me to pump out chapters faster, but no. . . 
> 
> Anywho, I sincerely want to thank you guys for reading this shit lolol and also commenting!!! Comments really brighten my day~ Stay safe and take care of yourselves!
> 
> 3999 words


	7. 𝘈𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦

The two weeks crawled on at a frustratingly slow pace. Core classes aside, the business lessons brought an air of despair to your life, gradually killing you like a slow-acting poison. Hopefully, you’d be out of Class 1-K for good within the week following the Sports Festival. Hopefully.  
  
Speaking of which, you finally got on good terms (at least, you think) with your classmates. Some point in the two weeks the blonde four-eyed girl reached out once again; only, this time, you responded. She thanked you for voting her as class rep, which you didn’t even realize you did. You’d take anything you could get at this point, though.  
  
Lunches continued as per usual. You typically stuck with Class 1-B, but every so often you’d sit with Uraraka and her group. Some questioned your lack of eating, but you brushed it off, blaming it on dieting or how you typically eat at night (“Octopus eat at night! My quirk is tentacles, so why shouldn’t I?”).  
  
Secretly, you hoped you’d get in 1-B, but you weren’t picky as long as it wasn’t the business course. Even Monoma wholeheartedly supported your desire to be in the heroics department. Though, you weren’t so sure if Monoma would be as happy if you become a part of Class 1-A. The copycat developed something of a vendetta against the class, ever since the immense press coverage surrounding the USJ incident. You supposed you were a part of making that happen, which in retrospect is kind of amusing.  
  
If somehow, you managed to fail in switching courses, you’d be dead on the spot. If not by your controlling, sadistic mother, then by you blasting your brains out with your _kagune._  
  
Thus far, there has been zero suspicion towards you. That, however, would be tested by the Sports Festival when you use your quirk. The school was littered with high-ranking personnel that had intel on your clan. You knew the CCG couldn’t string together facts to save their lives, but if an outsider managed to catch you. . .  
  
You’d just have to dispose of them. 

* * *

  
The 1-K prep room was filled with mindless business murmurs. No one, with the exception of you, took the Sports Festival at face value. Instead, it was a hands-on experience with vast amounts of business opportunities and simulations. In fact, one of your major tests for the term was either managing a food stand on-campus or being a vendor. Your only option was to manage a food stand, as you were participating in the festival.  
  
Needless to say, you weren’t doing so well in that respect. Not only do you not consume human food, but you also have no respect whatsoever for business management. Your stand was probably hanging on the outskirts of the food court with tumbleweeds for customers.  
  
On the bright side, your projected sales of “none” was probably correct.  
  
Based on the snippets of conversations you bothered to catch, most of your peers opted out of competing entirely. That, or they do the first event for appearances, and then drop out. This seemed to be an unwritten rule with management students. It was too bad you were going to disrupt the order.  
  
You were snapped out of your thoughts by an announcement: it was nearly time to go out for the first-year stage. Most of the nerds in the room twitched nervously, obviously flustered by the fact they’d be watched. While your heart rate was abnormal, it was out of excitement. You were pumped to kick some hero-hopefuls’ faces in.  
  
Suddenly, you remembered a fact. You flung off your sports uniform top hastily, causing everyone in the room (particularly the boys) to stare with their jaws on the floor. Turning the shirt backward, you ripped a substantial hole in the lower back. Tugging the article of clothing back on, you caught a few lingering stares.  
  
 **“It’s Yuuei’s Sports Festival!! The one time each year when our fledgling heroes compete in a ruthless grand battle!!”**  
  
Your classmates began making their way to the stage and you followed suit. Immediately after you stepped through the door, you could feel thousands of eyes burning holes at all angles. It was impossible to imagine how 1-A felt, with them being the center of attention and all. It was common knowledge the 1-A first-years stole the third-years’ spotlight.  
  
 **“First up. . . You know who I’m talkin’ about!! The miraculous rising stars who brushed off a villain attack with their steely willpower!! The first-years of the hero course!! It’s class A!!”**  
  
The earsplitting announcements were already getting to you, and you were at least grateful to have a blindfold. Even with the fabric dimming your vision, you could tell the area was extremely well-lit for the audience and cameras alike. You tried your best to tune out the rest of the noise as you walked. You were vaguely aware of the R-rated hero making her appearance, but you didn’t care to pay attention. What did catch your interest, was the blond brat from 1-A giving the athlete’s oath.  
  
“Make no mistake about it. I’m gonna take first place!!” The oath was curt as if he made it up on the spot. A delinquent deadpan face only a mother could love coated his features.  
  
 _‘That face. . . It makes me want to slowly pick him apart, one limb at a time. I wonder what it would take to make him cry.’_ In the male’s eyes, there was no excitement or amusement in making such an offensive oath. _‘It’s almost as if he’s backing himself into a corner, with nowhere to go but first place. Hah! I can’t wait to see his expression when I take it from him!’_  
  
The people both outside and inside the arena rioted. An uproar ensued and you instantly ignored everything once again. The preliminaries were announced to be an obstacle course race, and the students rushed into a narrow tunnel to start. You and your class were pushed to the very back, proving a serious disadvantage. Not that you or your classmates minded. You enjoyed a challenge now and then; though, it wasn’t like this would be one.  
  
“. . . As long as you don’t go off the course, anything is fair game!” Midnight declared, causing a smirk to pull at your lips.  
  
Three dings sang out, the last one evoking mad dashing throughout the student body. Even the participating business students managed a jog. Heavy pushes from all directions violated you, and you assumed this was the first challenge: getting out of the tunnel.  
  
A crisp chill enwrapped the narrow area, pulling shivers from shoulders and snot from noses. Ice crept down the floor towards your body, and you nimbly jumped onto some kids to evade the trap. From the higher perspective, you noticed you weren’t the only one with the approach. The purple-headed boy from the declaration of war appeared to be. . . riding his fellow classmates.  
  
 _‘Well, that’s a way to go about it, I suppose.’_  
  
Swiftly hopping from shoulder to shoulder, you finally escaped the cramped tunnel. You were met with a large stretch of the path and several other students in front of you. Having long-decided to lay low, you slowed your run to a leisurely jog. After slowing down considerably, you were hit with a wave of students from behind, a majority of which were 1-B students.  
  
Knitting your eyebrows, you trotted over to a familiar blond. Monoma looked you up and down and did a double-take at the blindfold, but ultimately decided not to comment.  
  
“So you’re holding back too huh? Hah! You’re much smarter than those 1-A pricks. My class decided to place low too. It’s not worth the energy to be first in the prelims,” The walking inferiority complex said, a hand glued to his face in an attempt at sophistication. You sent an amused nod, trotting side-by-side with the unconventional male.  
  
 **“Every obstacle course needs obstacles!! Starting with the first barrier. Robo Inferno!!”**  
  
Nearly everyone stopped dead in their tracks. While you and Monoma were a ways back from the frontrunners, the giant robots were crystal clear. The person in the first place, a guy with a rather unusual dye job ( _‘Was he dipped sideways in red hair dye?’_ ), froze the enormous machines in an unstable manner, only allowing him to pass. A cloud of dirt was kicked up, and you even saw a robot fall on some kids.  
  
 _‘Gotta admit, that was pretty smooth,’_ You chuckled, while Monoma’s face twisted in irritation.  
  
“That bastard. . . Thinks he’s better. . .” For the betterment of your sanity, you tuned the rude boy out. The hunks of metal materialized out of the dust, and you knew it was your time to act.  
  
Tightening your red blindfold, _Rc cells_ coursed through your back. Your _kagune_ emerged from the sloppy opening in the fabric. Not even looking back, you slung yourself towards the intimidating hunks of metal. Dexterously vaulting across the hoard of robots, your passage took little time. Faint cries of abandonment erupted behind you, but you paid no mind.  
  
 _‘You’re a big boy, Monoma. You can get over here by yourself.’_  
  
You touched the ground, pulsating tentacles breaking your fall. Unknowingly, the blond had gotten on your good side. You definitely wouldn’t save his ass if it came down to it, but you didn’t mind his presence. He was an odd source of entertainment; that being said, entertainment was entertainment, and it was hard to catch some fun these days.  
  
Continuing your languid pace from before, you followed those in front of you. Judging by the backs you could count, you were in about tenth place. It wasn’t bad, and that was kind of the problem. You briefly considered if you stayed with the bitchy boy maybe you would be in a better place, but that thought was shaken from your head.  
  
 **“So the first barrier was a piece of cake?! How about the second?! Fall and you’re out!! You gotta crawl across if you wanna make it!! This is the fall!!”**  
  
Lagging behind more, you stopped in a forming group. A bunch of people stared in awe at the earth pillars. A vast depth slotted between them with interconnecting ropes.  
  
 _‘Man, this one’s even worse than the last one! I suppose it makes sense, considering it was made for plebs.’_  
  
The frontrunner was still the botched hair boy, and people began to comment on his prowess. Jealousy crept up spines, admiring the boys gifted ice quirk. You, however, weren’t fooled. At the mention of Endeavor’s name, it clicked.  
  
The Canadian-themed lead was the number two hero’s son, Todoroki. While you weren’t sure of his first name, the Todoroki family was well known within your clan.  
  
When Endeavor first hit the scene, he encountered numerous family members of yours and allied with the CCG. All top ten pros are made aware of the existence of your kind, and can freely hunt them down if they pleased. That being said, Endeavor took it a step farther. The difference between Endeavor and the others is that he became an antagonist of your clan. A symbol of hatred. He, being the hero who’s resolved the most cases in history, got the title of number two almost entirely through multitasking ghoul-hunting and hero work. The ghouls he killed were always high-ranking serial killers to the public eye, giving Mr. Trash Fire an added layer of admiration.  
  
Stacking cases upon cases, he shot through the rankings. Nonetheless, he eventually hit a dead-end named All Might. Channeling his frustration into his work, he brutally wiped out nearly half of the ghouls in Japan.  
  
You see, ghouls are completely legal to kill with reasonable evidence and a ghoul investigator or hero’s license. The CCG is under the guise of a specialized missing person corps, solving cases of missing people, and the possible killers. Of course, these perpetrators are actually man-eating ghouls, and the CCG only took on cases believed to be related to ghouls.  
  
Snapping out of your thoughts, even Monoma caught up at some point. At the time, you had dropped down to the mid-twenties, and you deemed it good enough to continue. Naturally, you could easily clear the entire obstacle with one jump, but you refrained from doing so. Holding back, you climbed through the course the way it was intended with the eccentric blond.  
  
Hugging your last rope, you caught the end of an announcement. **“. . . This minefield!! It’s a deadly Afghan carpet!! A quick glance is enough to reveal the mines’ locations!! So keep both eyes open and watch your step!!”**  
  
 _‘There’s a fucking minefield?’_ You sweatdropped, hoping you wouldn’t get too maimed in the process. The others though? You didn’t really care.  
  
Scraping your way up the final dirt wall, you were back to running. The path soon spread into a vast plain, strewn with ever-so-slightly darker patches throughout. Pink explosions became increasingly common, and you were grateful you weren’t aiming for first.  
  
Taking your time dancing around the patches, you heard a thunderous blast behind you, something much louder than the ones prior. Sparing a glance back, an enormous cloud of pink shrouded the view. If you squinted, you could see a small airborne figure shooting past everyone.  
  
Apparently, you stared a little too long for Monoma’s liking, and he grabbed your wrist and pulled you across the bomb-ridden field. In the process, both of you set off a few bombs each but remained fairly unscathed.  
  
As it turned out, the figure was Midoriya Izuku, and he became first place after an ingenious stunt. The big explosion was due to him piling up bombs and using them to rocket himself forward. You ended up in 36th place, which was almost perfect in your eyes. Monoma came right after you in 37th place. All was well, except for maybe the blond hedgehog with a rather gremlin-like face. It was revealed that only the top 42 made it to the second round, and you smirked.  
  
 _‘Perfect.’_  
  
The dominatrix-style hero assumed a rather bold pose and announced the second event: a cavalry battle. She summarized the rules of the game; three to four people were to arrange in a horse-and-rider formation and steal other teams’ headbands. The headbands, however, carried a twist. Flipping the entire power hierarchy on its head, the points attributed to each headband rose with the higher placings, topping first place off with a grand _ten million points._  
  
Everyone gaped at Midoriya, who shook like a frail leaf in the wind. Sweat dripped down his face as if his quirk was condensation.  
  
You couldn't help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I apologize for the later update, I actually wrote the next chapter as well (~5K words) but decided against having so much plot in one chapter. I will continue to attempt at longer chapters, I just think this wasn't really the time. 
> 
> My super big question of the week! 
> 
> Do you prefer longer/faster updates but have them be unedited?
> 
> Tbh, I still ran this through Grammarly, just not the premium stuff (I don't have premium so I have to check paragraph-by-paragraph). If it's too unbearable, I can always come back and edit this chapter. 
> 
> The next update will probably be soon as both an apology and because it's already written haha. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> 2608 words


	8. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘔𝘪𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦

The 42 students were allowed fifteen minutes to configure teams. It was lucky you made friends for this mission because you’d be royally fucked otherwise. It appeared that the plain-looking broccoli boy was living in your fears, as people blatantly avoided him like the plague. When you observed Pink Cheeks join Midoriya, he burst into tears like a loose fire hydrant.  
  
_‘Sweat and now tears? Does his quirk have to do with bodily fluids?’_ You mused, a thinking hand settling on your chin. A small shiver of disgust ran over you. Overriding your mental detour, you scanned the area for potential teammates.  
  
Eyes finally settling on Monoma, you reasoned he had decent insight as well as a useful quirk. You noted that Monoma was conversing with Tsuburaba and you concluded you would join Team Monoma. Seeing as he was basically your partner in the obstacle race, you couldn’t see why you shouldn’t leech off of him some more.  
  
Trudging over to the airhead and copycat, you accidentally bumped shoulders with someone. A murmured apology reached your ears in a deep baritone. You plastered a fake smile, trying to not let irritation escape.  
  
“Ah, it’s okay. It was my fault anywa-”  
  
Your mind went completely blank, in a terrifying and breathtaking swipe. It was like cotton was stuffed into your skull, dulling your memory and the sharpness of your senses. Everything was so. . . fuzzy and unclear. What were you even doing? A zoned-out vision of the stadium was present, but it was uncannily detached indescribably. As if you were being controlled.  
  
You desperately tried to pry into your brain’s files, searching for anything that reminded you of your situation. Static flowed through your fingertips, desensitizing the touch of reality. It was incredibly maddening, and you groped for absolutely anything, but nothing turned up. Smoke spread across your open palms as you panicked.  
  
Finally, by the grace of God, a color draped over your vision. Purple. It was purple. But what did that have to do with anything? You clenched your teeth and dug deeper with more intensity; your sanity slowly slipping out of your preoccupied grasp. Hands found purchase in your scalp and pulled. Knees pulled in tight to your torso, a heart-wrenching feeling of despair fell over you.  
  
Attempts at screaming became a wispy breath as your lungs felt nonexistent. It was as if you couldn’t find any air and no oxygen reached your lungs. The feeling snowballed into outright hysteria.  
  
_‘Powerless,’_ The word rang in your head. A thrumming staccato of the word you most feared. _‘Powerless. Powerless. Powerless.’_  
  
Your arms slackened and when you looked down, large locks of hair spilled over your fingers. A stinging pain blew over your head.  
  
In a ringing clarity, you awakened from your temporary amnesia. Bright lights burned your eyes and loud movements filled your ears once again. A heavy weight pressed your right shoulder. Your left hand tightly laced with someone else’s, and your right resting on a back. Shaking your head clear from the leftover muddle, your senses honed. Then you realized.  
  
There was a half an ass resting upon your right shoulder. Your eyes trailed up the line of Yuuei’s track pants to a rather familiar purple-headed freak.  
  
Craning your head, you asked the first question that came to you. “Yo, what the fuck?”  
  
Seemingly startled, Purplicious snapped his head over to meet your stare. His body jerked up into a standing position, eyes narrowed in distaste. The sudden shift in weight from your shoulder to your hand threw you off balance. You stumbled but eventually caught yourself. The boy tsked, also unsteady.  
  
“How did you get out? And what’s with the blindfold?” He asked, with a bite to his tone. You scoffed, itching with disgust. Residual suffocation from the brainwashing lingered like an old stain. It clung to the back of your skull and something told you it wouldn’t leave any time soon.  
  
The bustle around you made it apparent that the cavalry battle was in full swing. You were engaged as a left-wing, holding up Eyebags’s left foot. Looking down, it dawned on you.  
  
He was barefoot!  
  
You almost wanted to scream. _‘First, he fucking brainwashes me, and now his bare ass foot is resting upon my hand! What the actual hell! I swear I’ll drop him if he sweats.’_  
  
Feet were never a delicacy in the first place, and you always despised the idea of sweat. While you were familiar with bodily fluids of humans (namely blood), perspiration just rubbed you the wrong way. The implication of a human secreting fluid out of their pores makes you want to gag. Just because you eat humans, does not mean you enjoy their skin piss.  
  
While you did your fair share of sweating once a leap year, whenever you did you were always appalled. Lord knows that if you have one inkling of weakness, it’s probably sweat. None of your relatives appeared to mind it, but everyone has their own tastes, you suppose.  
  
Purplehead glared down at your now-repulsed face and repeated his question. The dread of his brainwashing leaked out of your short-term memory in favor of the situation at hand.  
  
“I-I don’t know, I just did, okay? A-and the blindfold is for my quirk. Why’d you brainwash me in the first place?” Your stutter was authentic with an undertone of distaste. “And what’s your name?”  
  
“One at a time, princess,” He drawled. His face screamed uninterested, yet a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. “It’s Shinsou. Shinsou Hitoshi. I saw you running over those people back in the tunnel and thought you’d make a good asset. The blindfold was pretty eye-catching too.”  
  
You nodded dumbly, fingers dazed from the strain. Head still pounding, the sheer volume of the environment only served to further torment you.  
  
_‘Should I have worn sunglasses instead? Though, if I did that then they could fall off. . .’_ You sighed. _‘I didn’t really think it would be so interesting to people.’  
  
_You surveyed your ragtag team. Judging by your teammates’ blank looks, you inferred they were still under the influence of Shinsou’s quirk. Shifting your gaze from your team to the scene around you, you were astounded.  
  
“Hey, why are we just sitting here? You don’t have any headbands,” You barked, growing annoyed. If you didn’t pass this stage, there was no way you’d graduate to the heroics course.  
  
Shinsou smirked ever-so-slightly. “Don’t worry princess, the time’s not even halfway up. We’re gonna take someone’s last minute, I’m thinking team Tetsutetsu.”  
  
_‘That must be why he was resting his ass on my shoulder. He was going to play dead until the end,’_ You inwardly grimaced. “Stop with the princess bullshit,” You sneered, letting your façade drop. You supplied your name after, flicking your attention anywhere but his smirk.  
  
In the background, loud, rapid explosions could be heard. The angry Pomeranian's team’s points had been stolen by Monoma’s team. The firecracker looked to be having a fit, and you smiled, containing a laugh. It would’ve been fun to taunt him if you were on Monoma’s team, as planned.  
  
In your sadistic fantasies, you were startled by a sudden shock ripple through your body. Volts of electricity coursed through your being in an unpleasant bolt. Your muscles seized and Shinsou groaned cuss words. The shock only affected you and Purplicious, likely as a result of the way your team was positioned.  
  
A wave of ice, not unlike the one from the tunnel, crawled its way across multiple teams’ legs. The ice stopped short of your team, however, and just licked your shoes. Being on the periphery of the arena, you were only mildly stunned. It took a hot second, but you shook it off. A minute later than you, Shinsou recovered as well. The clock didn’t stop for anybody, and the added complication offset the agenda. At this point, the time was wearing thin, and your team was still at zero points.  
  
“It’s time,” Shinsou muttered, ordering your other teammates to go for Tetsutetsu’s team. The steel boy appeared distracted, along with his cavalry unit. Your rider couldn’t have picked a better moment. Watching the showdown that was going on in the makeshift ice stage, the 1-B team never saw you coming. In fact, you don’t think they even noticed their headbands were stolen. Your team’s right-wing bumped weakly into Tetsutetsu’s team, but even then they were unaffected.  
  
“Huh?” You turned to the tailed boy to your right. His eyes were no longer glazed over, and he looked to be as confused as you had been. You opened your mouth to give an explanation, but you were cut off by a countdown.  
  
**“3. . . 2. . . 1. . . Time’s up! Let’s see who the top four teams are right now!”** Judging by the fact that you took all of Tetsutetsu’s points, you should make it into the next round. You could be wrong, though. In that case, you’d have to severely beat up Eyebags past recognition.  
  
**“In first place, team Todoroki!!”  
  
**You huffed in annoyance. Dip-dye, as you so lovingly nicknamed him, was looking at his left hand as if it betrayed him. You couldn’t help but crack a grin at his frustration.  
  
_‘Probably the first time a Todoroki has placed first.’_ You mused. _‘And the last.  
  
_**“In second, team Bakugou!!”  
  
**The angry gremlin was having a meltdown sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the dirt.  
  
_‘So the explosive hedgehog took back his points, huh? That means the quirk thief probably isn’t doing so hot.’_ You mentally shrugged it off. As much as you relatively liked the petty blond, the extent of your friendship ended at sympathy. If anything, you were more annoyed by the Bakugou boy getting a good stroke to the ego. He didn’t seem like a very pleasant one when riled up.  
  
**“In third, team Tetsu. . . Huh?! Whoa!! Team Shinsou?!”  
  
**Shinsou adopted a rather perverse smile. You couldn’t say you were surprised by the announcer’s obvious obliviousness. Team Shinsou really did make a last-second comeback. Since your team idled for the good part of the event, most eyes probably weren’t on you.  
  
Your previously-brainwashed comrades appeared just as confused as the announcer. While you sulked outside of the limelight, Tailman and Wide-eyes looked around in discombobulation. You silently patted their backs and nodded a “just go with it".  
  
**“In fourth, team Midoriya!! These four teams will proceed to the final event!!”  
  
**Midoriya burst into tears with a much higher pressure than you’ve witnessed before. You were really starting to think it was his quirk.  
  
Stretching out your neck, you began to walk off with the others to your one-hour lunch break. Just as your mind was on the brink of wandering, your eyes found Midoriya walking off with the Todoroki. Your interest piqued, and you discreetly followed, careful to lighten your footfalls. They turned into a school-affiliates-only hall, and you took a position just around the corner.  
  
Coincidentally, the snarky blond that got second place had the same thoughts. When you met eyes (rather, eyes met blindfold), there was a silent agreement. You may not respect him, but right now, eavesdropping was more important.  
  
Skipping the pleasantries, the half-and-half boy babbled on about Midoriya’s pressure resembling All Might. While this was nice and all, you didn’t really care for hero talk and were about to leave. Explodey held you back by your wrist, sadly, and you were rendered unable to search for something more interesting. He must’ve thought you’d give the two of you away if you backed out. Suppressing a yawn, you stilled, catching a few comments between the boys.  
  
“Are you All Might’s illegitimate child or something?”   
  
It took every fiber of your being to resist cackling. A monotonous tone with a voice unfittingly deep for a fifteen-year-old, all while saying something so amusing. You turned to Bakugou with eyes filled with mirth, eager to see his reaction. He, however, was feeling differently than you. A dumbfounded look rested upon his usually-bitchy face, and it was a nice change.  
  
Following the rather humorous comment, you picked apart the conversation like a C- student scanning a textbook. That is to say, you think you got the gist of it, but you didn’t really pay attention. From what you could tell, Todoroki revealed his heart-wrenching sob story, and Midoriya said “I’m going to beat you like your father did!”, or something like that. Again, you didn’t really pay attention.  
  
The conversation wasn’t anywhere near what you thought it would be. I mean, you were expecting something fun like “Midoriya, I’ve liked you since I laid my eyes upon you”. Now, this? This was disappointing. Where’s the romantic comedy in your horror film life?  
  
The only substantial information you obtained was that Broccoli Boy has a sketchy relationship with All Might. You probably could’ve gathered that without ol' Canadian Flag presenting his secret love child theory. I mean seriously, was that the best he’s got?  
  
You sighed with a deep frown. Lunch break was over, not like you could’ve eaten anything anyway. You hoped to at least rub Monoma’s loss in his face. Something to brighten up your day.  
  
**“Between the sixteen members of the four winning teams, we’ll have a formal tournament!! A series of one-on-one battles!!”  
  
**The people from the second round congregated to the middle of the field. Those that placed in the event separated from the others and formed a patch in front of Midnight’s stage. Midnight gingerly held up a box with “Lots” clumsily written on it.  
  
“The matchups will be decided by drawing lots. Once that’s settled, we’ll move on to the festivities, and then the tournament itself!” The R-rated hero continued on about how you could choose what to do with the remaining time. Out of socializing, recreational activities, and alone time, you’d choose alone time one million times over. You had yet to come up with a strategy for concealing as much as you could, and you didn’t feel like babysitting children. Though, maybe before your alone time, you could still make fun of Monoma.  
  
The tailed guy from your cavalry team interrupted Midnight. “Um. . . Excuse me. I’d like to drop out.”  
  
Chaos ensued. Left and right, people questioned why in the world he would want to miss out on such an opportunity. Even you didn’t fully grasp his motives.  
  
“The cavalry battle. . . I have no memories of anything that happened up until the tail end.”  
  
_‘Was the pun intended?’  
  
_“It’s probably his quirk that did it. . .” The group collectively ogled Shinsou. Eyebags turned away without a hint of remorse. “I know this is a great opportunity, and I know how stupid it must seem to throw it away. . .” The plain-looking boy gave a full 5000-word report on why he wasn’t good enough for the final trial. Your eyes were suddenly drawn by gravity, and your head nodded.  
  
_‘God,’_ You thought, microscopically rolling your eyes. _‘Just let him do what he wants. All this kid is going to do is keep droning on about his pride and shit.’_ You let out a deep breath and closed your eyes.  
  
You almost zonked out, until Midnight took her whip and cracked it, yelling “I like it!”  
  
You couldn’t catch a break today.  
  
In the end, everyone played hot potato with their spots in the tournament. From your team to Kendo, to Tetsutetsu, you nearly got whiplash trying to keep up. Finally, the lots were drawn and the matchups were displayed on the big screen. You were the fifth match against “Ashido Mina”. People commented on their matchups, and a pink girl approached you.  
  
“A-Ashido Mina?” You beat her to the punch with your signature stutter. The girl brightened, smiling widely.  
  
Judging by first impressions, she appeared a happy-go-lucky kind of person and more than likely easy to beat. When you gave her a once-over, though, you noticed the track pants were pulled taught over her thighs. Prying your eyes away, you concluded she probably has significant muscle tone. She was probably a lot stronger than what meets the eye.  
  
You mimicked her smile when she said your name. “T-that’s me! Good luck, I look forward to our fight! I won’t go easy on you!” That was a lie, of course. If you didn’t go easy on her, she would be reduced to a smear on the pavement.  
  
Ashido nodded with bubbly energy, reciting the same to you. “You’re a business student, right? That’s so cool! Good luck to you too, I hope we can be friends!” A gleam in her eyes told you she was underestimating your abilities. You couldn’t really blame her, after all, you were in the fucking business course of all things. Squeaking out a “sure”, you waved and walked off.  
  
“Now let’s set aside the tournament for the time being and get on with the thrill-a-minute festivities!  
  
As the side events kicked into full swing, a certain brooding blond approached you.  
  
“Ah! M-Monoma-kun!” You greeted. The boy perked up at your voice, but his mouth wavered with unsung agitation. He greeted you back, obviously still hung up on his loss. While his personality was perfect to heckle, the pure, twitching loss in his eyes made you hesitate. “I’m sorry I couldn’t join your team. I got brainwashed and-”  
  
Monoma cut you off with a sigh. “It’s okay, at least you got into the next round. I know you need this to join Class 1-B, and I’ll get those 1-A demons next time.” He had an air of thick revenge surrounding him, and you thought it would be best to let him vent in a recreational activity instead. That way, he could directly confront his enemies face-to-face. At least, that’s what you hoped; you weren’t going to stick around to see if your hypothesis rings true.  
  
Saying your goodbyes, your exterior dropped like Newton’s apple. The shy personality forced upon you by this dreaded assignment was starting to get to you. It was only a matter of time before you detrimentally slipped up, and the thought made you uncharacteristically anxious. Actually, you hadn’t bothered to use a mask with Insomnia Personified. The realization made you begin to feel a bit queasy, so you retired to the bathroom to think without disturbance.  
  
_‘Hopefully, the arena’s facilities don’t have gaps between the stalls,’_ You shuddered. The chance meeting with Uraraka had yet to cease haunting your sleep. It was too awkward for your liking. The fact that she slips up and calls you a pervert now and then doesn’t help either.  
  
Locking yourself in a deep-blue stall, you paced.  
  
_‘What to do?’_ You wondered. _‘It didn’t seem like Shinsou really minded my personality. If I recall correctly, he’s a gen-ed student, so it’s not as if he’ll blab to the hero kids. I was too startled to conceal everything.’  
  
_You took a moment to feel the air fill your lungs. Taking deep breaths, you calmed yourself. A blank expression once again met you. Your heart slowed to a relaxed rhythm, but a muted pain in your head stopped you from sedating entirely. Cursing, you recalled the brainwashing fiasco. Your teammates weren’t impacted like you were, as far as you could tell. This, coupled with the fact that Shinsou was outwardly surprised that you broke out, led you to a conclusion.  
  
_‘I think he was just as shocked as I was. From what I can remember, the tailed boy woke up shortly before the time was up. But what was the cause?’_ You mulled the question over and over, but the more you thought of it, the worse your headache got. _‘Gah! I’ll just figure out what to do with the one v. ones. I’m just going to have to put this aside for now.’_ Reclining on the closed toilet seat, you thought of your competitors.  
  
It wasn’t hard to realize that, while you did have some years on these tiny tots, some were more powerful than you were willing to admit. Powerhouses like Todoroki and wildcards like Midoriya made your job that much harder. If it came down to it though, you were sure in a deathmatch you’d win.  
  
_‘I suppose I’ll just have to gauge their strength and match it. It won’t do me any good to show all of my cards.’_  
  
Smiling devilishly, you devised a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ I just came up with a plan myself haha. Judging by the comments, you guys seem to want longer and quality chapters, so from now on, I'll work on that! Due to this, my kind-of-every-Wednesday update schedule may become a tad wonky. Please forgive me if I find myself taking two weeks to write a chapter;;
> 
> With editing, I first wanted to thank you all for the feedback :) It made me really happy~ I got a few mixed reviews, but I came to the executive decision to do light edits from now on. Chapters 1-5 were edited paragraph-by-paragraph (which took years off my life ngl TT), so I'm going to scan over them and put them through the free Grammarly! I hope this makes everyone happy, as I tried to compromise as best I could. Maybe when I'm finished with this I'll deep edit ;;;;  
>    
>  Last update before the question: I added a little preface in the first chapter about trigger warnings plus some, so please review that if you haven't seen it.
> 
> Super big question of the week~~
> 
> Would you guys mind an OC? Personally, I think OCs can make things new and interesting, but I wanna know what y'all think. The OC wouldn't join the class or anything, they'd be a minor character.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S. Did anyone else have a twenty one pilots phase? Or was that just me :')
> 
> 3685 words


	9. 𝘖𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦

Amidst your tournament-preparation in the bathroom, your phone vibrated excessively. Huffing in displeasure, you grabbed the small device out of your back pocket. An unknown number was calling. Honing in your senses, you scanned the room for any eavesdroppers. Detecting no one, you reluctantly pressed the green “pick up” button.  
  
“What’s poppin’,” You droned sarcastically. Abrasive scratching noises met your left ear, and you cringed away. “Shigs, you should really cut that habit out. If not for you, do it for me,” You fake begged, knowing he gets off on that kind of stuff. It was truly a laughing matter, as you disliked the guy almost as much as the heroes themselves.  
  
Shigaraki scoffed, and the scratching intensified. “Shut up, or I’ll destroy you with the rest of them.” You rolled your eyes but stayed silent. From his childish disposition, it sounded like an empty threat. From first-hand experience, however, you very much knew what the man-boy was capable of. “I called to make sure you remember the mission. You are to join the hero course without delay. I also want you to scout new recruits for me.”  
  
An eyebrow raised, nearing your hairline. While Shigaraki Tomura was smart enough to use burner phones, he was evidently dumb enough to think hero brats could turn bad with a good speech. You didn’t voice your thoughts, though, and only curtly affirmed. It was best to play along with him, you’ve learned. It’s better that way for both parties.  
  
“One last thing. Have you heard of a guy named Stain? There’s a lot of talk about him over here. They call him the Hero Killer.” His gravelly voice lowered into a deep, crackly rumble, likely in vexation.  
  
Finally, the blue-haired male had caught your attention. The recent news you’ve picked up have brief mentions of the up-and-coming antihero. He’s built quite the name for himself, rapidly raising awareness with his relevant ideology, but namely for filleting heroes for breakfast.  
  
“I have. Is there any reason, in particular, you’re bringing him up? My break’s about to end.”  
  
Shigaraki tuts, the periodic clucks resonate in your left ear. Irritation bubbles deep in your stomach, and you find your feet tapping without your knowing. Facepalm muttered about how he has no reverence for your time, while you corrected your stray feet. “We’re gonna recruit him. Kurogiri thinks it’ll be good to have a philosophy to back the League--he says it’ll be easier to recruit that way.”  
  
You paused at that, humming lowly. While Misty was probably right about recruiting with Stain on board, you weren’t sure about Stain himself. Albeit, as a mercenary, you didn’t have much in the say.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Go for it, I guess. I really need to hang up now, I think recreational activities are wrapping up.”  
  
Crusty scoffed. “I know you’re lying. We have the Sports Festival playing on TV right now. I’ll leave you with a warning, though, because I’m feeling nice. I won’t be in such a good mood if you mess this up. Remember that.” He hung up. The pregnant air fell thin, and you let out a breath you didn’t know your lungs stored.  
  
_‘Well that was invigorating,’_ You thought. While you did bend the truth a little, you didn’t lie exactly as Shigaraki accused you. The extra festivities were due to end in a few minutes, and you didn’t want to miss out on gauging the competition.  
  
Waltzing out of the bathroom with a frown cut on your face, you made your way back into 1-K’s seating area. Sitting down away from the others, but just close enough to catch conversations, you made yourself comfortable. The sun beat down on your hair, and the suffocating population of the arena made you feel even more hot and stuffy.  
  
“Did you see Todoroki? I can’t believe I’ve never noticed him before.”  
  
“With that face? His stocks are probably through the roof. Not to mention, his father’s the number two hero.”  
  
“What about Bakugou? He may be brash, but he has a good quirk. Not to mention, he’s totally easy on the eyes.”  
  
You deadpanned. You did _not_ strategically place yourself just to hear a shallow chat about a _Todoroki_ and a _feral rat_. Massaging your temples, you tuned out your surroundings as much as possible. Eyes blurring out of focus, you made your best effort to meditate the remaining exasperation away.  
  
Movement caught your inattentive eyes, and you took notice of Cementoss creating a stage. Cement flowed into an elevated platform, and it was even topped off with torches in the corners.  
  
_‘Damn, he would’ve made a good architect.’  
  
_**“Thanks, Cementoss! Hey guys. Are you ready?! You’ve been through hell to get here!! But now it’s time for the one-on-one tournament!! You’ve only got yourself to rely on!! Even if you’re not a hero, this saying holds true!! You know it!! Spirit, technique, strength, wisdom, and knowledge!! Use ‘em all and show us your best!!”  
  
**Drawing from your memory, you recall that Present Mic teaches English. You were blessed enough to not have him currently, but that was subject to change.  
  
Maybe you should invest in earplugs.  
  
**“The first match!! Making a weird face despite his excellent performance, it’s Midoriya Izuku, from the hero course!! Versus. . . Sorry, but this guy hasn’t really done anything to stand out yet! It’s Shinso Hitoshi, from General Studies!!  
  
**_‘Something tells me all of the introductions will be as biased as this one.’  
  
_The loud announcer provided the rules of the tournament, mentioning that ethics didn’t matter (but killing was a no-no). You briefly pondered the public reaction to a non-ethical, but totally-rule-compliant beat down.  
  
_‘It’s not like I’m going to become a hero, anyway. Might as well have fun while I’m here.’  
  
_Focusing on Shinso, you feel a phantom ache in your head. You made sure to pay attention, as you wanted to figure out why you were so badly affected. Part of you hoped he made it if only to match up with you. Then, you could test your non-ethical thought while releasing some pent-up steam.  
  
Reluctantly honing in on your hearing, you catch Eyebags’s provoking comments to Midoriya.  
  
“. . . Like that _monkey_ , babbling about his stupid pride.”  
  
You suspected the monkey he spoke of was the tailed boy, Ojiro.  
  
_‘Ojiro, was it? I have to admit, I agree with Shinso on this one. Though, personally, I always thought of him more as a kangaroo than a monkey.’_  
  
**“Ready!! Start!!”**  
  
Due to you not muting your acute hearing, your ears rang and you couldn’t catch the rest of the conversation. From your blindfolded vision, you made out Midoriya making a mad dash towards the purple-haired boy. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, and you knew it was Shinso’s game.  
  
Slipping out of your attentive mentality, you sat back in your chair. The girls behind you were still rambling about Dip-Dye and Sea Urchin, but now with a touch of Broccoli thrown in.  
  
“He won the first preliminary, but he hasn’t truly shown his quirk yet. In any case, that doesn’t make for a good investment.”  
  
As much as you abhorred the boy-talk, you couldn’t help but agree. Broccoli Boy showcased great intellect while essentially quirkless. He had your respect in that regard, but the true motive of the Sports Festival was to attract pro heroes. As impressive as it was, Midoriya was completely unpredictable with his unknown quirk, and therefore wouldn’t appeal to professionals as an intern or sidekick. In a world of calculated risk, acumen can only carry you so far.  
  
_‘Damn, maybe all my business classes went to my head. . .’_ You shook your head to rid the thought. Jaw in hand, your eyelids drooped like falling feathers.  
  
Shifting your cloudy gaze upwards in an attempt to stay conscious, a sudden gust of wind blew your hair back. Upon squinting, you could see two of Midoriya’s fingers submerged in a deep purple. This wasn’t the most curious part of the scene, though, as he broke Shinso’s mind control just short of the line.  
  
**“Midoriya! He stopped?!”  
  
**Objectively speaking, the greenet had far superior muscle mass as compared to Purplicious. In a proper spar, Midoriya would win hands down. It appeared the tables had turned.  
  
Taking a deep stretch, hands twined above your head, you yawned deeply. The nerds in the section were taking rapid notes, likely calculating the change in Freckles’s stocks. Rubbing the underside of your nose with an index finger, you decided you’d watch one more round before leaving. Coincidentally, the next round was between Todoroki and a miscellaneous.  
  
At this point, Midoriya had flipped the sleep-deprived smart-talker over the line. You were a tiny bit partial to the purple-haired boy’s success, as you related to Shinso’s desire to get into heroics. Nevertheless, you weren’t abhorrently opposed to Midoriya’s win. You were sure he’d make for a great next round and possible opponent. It’d be interesting to see if he made it in or not. Hound Dog told you top four, but it was possible he’d be moved anyway.  
  
Nevertheless, you weren’t vehemently opposed to Midoriya’s win. You were sure he’d make for a great next round and possible opponent.  
  
**“Midoriya Izuku moves on to the second round!! Goodness gracious! We’re off to an eventful start! Well, put your hands together for our fierce competitors!”  
  
**The crowd cheered, but Eyebags left with a rather somber frustration written on his face. With your tuned hearing, you could catch the pro heroes' blab about Shinso’s quirk. In another direction, 1-C blithely cheered him on.  
  
There was a short break between rounds that you filled with mindless chatter. Making small talk with the bothersome girls in the back, you found out they were planning to give Todoroki a congratulatory gift for doing so well in the first rounds. You ended the conversation rather quickly after learning the fact, but the information remained with you all the same.  
  
You were highly anticipating leaving Class 1-K.  
  
**“The wait is over!! Moving on. . . There they are!! The cream of the crop!! Yet this guy’s still as plain as they come! Sero Hanta of the hero course! Versus. . . The best of the best! Strongest of the strong! Todoroki Shouto, also of the hero course!!”  
  
**_‘Present Mic proves me correct. I wonder what my introduction will be.’_ Giving a thoughtful hum, the eccentric blond starts the match.  
  
Without hesitation, Plain Boy shoots tape out of his elbows, capturing Canadian Flag. You took note of the peculiar quirk, others doing the same. An announcement is made on the strategy of a surprise attack.  
  
Rapidly nearing the border of the stage, Todoroki makes his move. Planting his foot, a whole ass iceberg erupts, encapsulating the poor tape boy in an excessive show of strength. You could reach out and touch the ice if you so wished, and the ice towered over even the arena itself. It was definitely overkill.  
  
_‘The son of a bitch could probably save the north pole if he so pleased.’  
  
_ As he reached out to free Elbows, you finally got a good look at Dip-Dye. The girls certainly weren’t wrong, as even you found him indisputably attractive, though it was likely for different reasons. You found profound amusement in his little ice prince boots. Despite the hilarity of his choice in footwear, there was something melancholy that surrounded him. A deep air of profound and cold sorrow settled near the well-muscled boy, intriguing you tenfold. The way his scar was slightly raised and uneven made him perfectly imperfect. Everything about him screamed “troubled”, and you were living for it.  
  
Perhaps you were a sadist, but that was a talk for another day.  
  
According to what you found out while eavesdropping, Endeavor was wed through a quirk marriage, and the Half-and-Half boy a product of such an arrangement. You made a mental note to report it to your mother, as she’d surely find it interesting. The extent of knowledge on Endeavor in your family stopped at his personal life. The subdivisions in Japan were aware he had a wife and approximately four children, but it didn’t stretch further than that.  
  
The crowd chanted “don’t mind” for the plain-looking noiret, and the pros got to cleaning. You sat up from your seat with leisure, stretching once more. Because of the added time, it would take to clean the stage, you thought you should check up on your food stand. Maybe you’d get a water or two on the way.  
  
Stepping into the back halls, you had the absolute pleasure to come face-to-face with a flaming piece of shit. Glaring through your blindfold, your steps didn’t stutter and he paid you no mind.  
  
_‘Ugly ass bastard,’_ You grimaced, sticking your tongue out after you passed him.  
  
As if sensing something, he turned, but you swiftly caught yourself. Snapping back forward, you heard his steps halt. Sensing eyes lingering on your back, you turned the corner with a victorious grin.  
  
_‘Serves you right, fuckwipe.’  
  
_Stepping out into the bustling plaza, you eyed your shabby concession stand. The person you were partnered with was running it, albeit there wasn’t much to run. He decided all on his own that you would conceptualize the stand and he would work it. You didn’t complain, but it was generally a bad decision on his part. You could sympathize, only because he wanted to run the stand so you could kick ass.  
  
Slamming his hands on the counter, his eyes appeared to pop out of his head, apparently regretting his ill-advised decision. He prattled about how you had no foresight, questioning how you had top grades in the class but couldn’t calculate proper demographics or organize a half-decent stand.  
  
You shrugged it off with ease. “T-the grades are separated, so I’m sure you’ll be unaffected,” You countered. Your facade threatened to slip every time someone attempted to converse with you. It was all too tiring.  
  
The boy left you with a huff, shooing you away. Without hesitation, you left the extra to his own devices.  
  
Traipsing about, you studied the cacophonous blather. Studying humans was always an enthralling activity to you, as they typically exuded a rather content aura. Family and friends strolled through the paved area, enjoying the event with various foods in hand, conversing and sharing bright, cutting laughs. The scene was painted with glaringly fluorescent colors, burning your eyes at the edges.  
  
Something buried in your ribcage ached, but you chalked it up to aftereffects of being mind-controlled.  
  
“I didn’t expect you to make it so far! I’m impressed with you, kid!” Jolting towards the source of the noise, you found a familiar subjugating furry.  
  
“A-ah, Inui-Sensei, you surprised me. Thank you for your compliment, I’m trying my best.”  
  
Hound Dog rumbled with a peal of deep laughter. “I’ll stick with my promise and prepare, just in case. I’m on guard duty right now, but if you get the fourth place or higher, everything will be ready! I will notify the teachers in advance!”  
  
You wondered what would happen if you fell short of fourth place. With all of the preparations he speaks of, perhaps he’ll let you graduate regardless.  
  
_‘It doesn’t really matter in the first place,’_ You thought. _‘Because I’m going to get fourth place, no questions asked.’_  
  
You smiled and thanked Hound Dog for his efforts. He grunted in reply, stating he needed to return to his duties. You parted with an awkward wave, and you continued your aimless adventure.  
  
Amidst your mindless walking, you realized that the ice was cleared and the third round had already concluded, meaning there was only a one-round buffer for you to get to the prep room. All thoughts of water slipped your mind. Accelerating, you cursed yourself for your vacuous mistake. While Hound Dog did hold you up, there was no one to blame but yourself.  
  
_‘Damn it. Damn it. Damn it,_ ’ You chanted in your head. It was a very insignificant misstep, but anything less than perfection can throw a wrench into your plans. While you were 100% confident in your abilities, if you happened to be late, it’s an automatic forfeit.  
  
The hold on the mission was slowly dripping out of your hands. You were never an actor in the first place, a naturally stoic and apathetic person, you could count on one hand the number of genuine emotions you’ve felt, excluding anger and near-synonyms. It was all so frustrating, and exhausted you to the bone, both physically and mentally. This was one of the last straws.  
  
You made it just in time, as a roaring announcement was named in favor of Iida Tenya. Soughing in relief, you ran your fingers through your hair.  
  
**“We’re gonna keep on going with the fifth match!”  
  
**You took that as your cue to enter the stage. Cheers surrounded you as a pink girl mirrored your actions. She raised her hands in a cocky stretch, a relaxed grin taunting you.  
  
**“To be honest, she really hasn’t done much!! A surprising contender. . .”  
  
**You groaned at Present Mic’s introduction for you, ultimately paying no mind. Stares encapsulated you in rapt attention. Without a doubt, wondering who you were, and how a business course student made it this far.  
  
**“Versus. . . Is something going to come out of those horns?! Well?! From the hero course, it’s Ashido Mina!!”  
  
**Her cocky grin evolved into a lopsided smile. The pinching in her eyebrows, however, gave away her nervousness.  
  
“Nehehe. My first match is a piece of cake!” Ashido pointed doubly at you, seemingly steeling her nerves. You simply smirked in response, not trusting yourself to trash talk in character.  
  
“Beat each other like in those fighting games where their clothes get ripped off!” A puny grape kid squawked, sweating profusely with a fire in his eyes. Even if he wasn’t sweating, the rather pervy suggestion would’ve deterred you, anyway. Class 1-A appeared to have a range of colorful characters. Classes B and K were on your side, albeit the latter a bit half-heartedly.  
  
Meanwhile, in the student section, Midoriya Izuku was burning holes in his notebook as Sero Hanta observed with interest. Flittering eyes studied the horned girl's page.  
  
“Ashido-san is confrontational, so she’ll go for close-range. She has good mobility with her quirk and is capable of mid-range attacks with her acid. On the other hand. . .” Midoriya takes a good look at you in the field, amazed at how comfortable you looked. When he first met you, he thought maybe you were a little shy with your sporadic stutters. Yet, here you were in front of thousands of people, not breaking a sweat. You truly were a curious person.  
  
The freckled boy looked down, only to notice an egregious inkblot on his page for you. He planned on taking notes of your tactics, adding on to the few things he saw in the preliminaries. Truthfully, he had almost nothing on you, only that you wore a blindfold and were brainwashed like the others on your team. The blindfold was presumably a support item, and therefore you must’ve petitioned for it. Other than that, your appearance gave nothing away about your quirk.  
  
He murmured your name, deep in thought. “I don’t have much of anything on her.”  
  
Sero patted the greenet on the back, leaning in to take a closer look. “Man, you weren’t kidding. Present Mic said she’s a business student?”  
  
Midoriya nodded, recounting his meetings with you.  
  
Asui raised her index finger to her mouth in consideration. “I wonder what kind of match it will be. Mina-chan, you can do it!”  
  
**“Now, why don’t we get moving?! Fifth match, start!!”  
  
**Immediately, Ashido makes her move. Gliding across the cement stage with acid pooling beneath her feet, she quickly approaches you. Judging by what you could see, you didn’t even need your _kagune._ At around ten feet from you, she dashes the milky substance towards your figure, only for you to evade gracefully.  
  
You locked eyes with the girl, admiring her black scleras. _‘If only she knew what tragedy eyes generate.’_  
  
She flows across the stage like a professional skater. You remain almost entirely stationary while she cautiously checks you out.  
  
“Are you not gonna use your quirk?” She taunts. “Then I’ll make this easy on you!”  
  
Deciding you acquired enough intel on her style, you made your move. Bolting toward the pinkette, she hesitated. In the second she let her guard down, you grabbed her uniform and sought to fling her out of bounds. Snapping out of her stupor, Ashido oozed the corrosive liquid out of her palms and grabbed your shoulders. You paid no mind, only strengthening your drive. The fluid ate through your shirt, biting at your skin.  
  
Sliding her foot out, the alienesque girl managed to swipe your feet, but you didn’t fall. Clenching your jaw, you stumbled. Recovering almost immediately, you threw a right hook at the girl’s flushed cheek. The impact hit, but from the tension in your bicep, you knew you held back. Ashido wobbled, clutching the left side of her face. You grabbed hold of her shoulders once again and began pushing her once again.  
  
_‘I admit, she’s a lot more solid than I gave her credit for.’_ You grit your teeth in earnest. The horned girl’s reaction time was superb. Her feet planted firmly on the ground, turning the round into a wrestling match; a game of push-and-shove. She continued supplying the corrosive fluid to you, possibly more viscous and cutting than what you recall. The liquid stuck to you in thick globs, searing your skin into angry welts. To deter you, her pink manicured hands squeezed the burning flesh like a soapy sponge, and shooting pain danced on the wounds. You paid no mind, and the minor inconvenience only drove your resolve.  
  
Some of Ashido’s leftover acid on her feet made her foothold falter, allowing you to gain the advantage. In her minor slip-up, you used more strength to continue her fall’s momentum. Inertia carried the girl the rest of the way, knocking the wind out of her past the chalky white line.  
  
“Ashido is out of bounds!” Midnight raised her handcuffed right hand up, proclaiming you the winner. A sharp _snap_ of her whip ensued.  
  
The crowd roared at the seemingly helpless business student’s display of strength. Cameras flashed like twinkling stars, and pros contemplated just what your quirk was; no doubt the blindfold threw them for a loop.  
  
**“A brawl between two women, ending with an indisputable victor!! Just how far will this management student go?!”  
  
**“Ashido! Why couldn’t you have melted more of her shirt?!” The same scum as earlier cried, bleating like an injured sheep.  
  
The acid burns you sustained dissolved in the blink of an eye, due to your accelerated healing factor. You held out your hand to Ashido, helping her up.  
  
“Man,” She scratched her neck, a deeper pink coating her cheeks. “I really underestimated you. You did great out there! From what I saw, you didn’t even use your quirk either!”  
  
Large holes created windows to newly-soft skin underneath. You’d probably have to get your top replaced before the next round to save you from a wardrobe malfunction. Ashido eyed the holes, becoming even more sheepish than before.  
  
You gave her a small smile. “I-it’s okay, I get that a lot. And don’t worry about the holes, I’ll just change my shirt.”  
  
Stepping off the stage together, the two of you continued to chat.  
  
“I wasn’t worried about your shirt, silly, I was worried about your skin! I maximized both solubility and viscosity in that last move, so I was worried about your shoulders. . .” She trailed off, poking the exposed flesh. “But it looks like I had nothing to worry about! So your quirk is healing?”  
  
Mimicking a bashful smile, you averted your eyes. “There’s a little more to it,” You chuckled. “It looks like we’ll part here.” The hall split into two, one in the direction of the 1-A seating area, and the other, 1-K.  
  
Pinky whined comically, stomping her foot with a huff. “But I just made a new friend! You can come to sit with us hero students if you want! I don’t know if you have anyone waiting for you in your class, but we’d love to have you!” The girl gave a sunny, closed-eye smile. The act admittedly caught you by surprise, and you authentically stammered an agreement.  
  
“That’s great! I can’t wait to introduce you to everybody!” Ashido cheered and grabbed your wrist, leading you up the stairs.  
  
“I-uh, I’ve actually met Uraraka, Iida, and Midoriya.” You mentioned, to the other girl’s delight.  
  
The shadows of the hallway melted into a sun-lit seating area. The students welcomed the pink girl back, double-taking when they caught sight of you.  
  
Multiple people came to greet you. In particular, a redhead, Elbows, and a greenette with a really cute hairstyle.  
  
“Hey, your match was super manly! I’m Kirishima Ejirou, kudos to you both!"  
  
“You guys were really cool out there! My name’s Sero Hanta, by the way!”  
  
“Asui Tsuyu, but you can call me Tsu, kero. You and Mina-chan were amazing!”  
  
Laughing airily, you supplied responses to them all, tagging your name at the end. “I hope you guys don’t mind me joining you?” You asked out of courtesy, fully aware they wouldn’t say no.  
  
“Of course they don’t! I’ve already told you,” Ashido scolds, beckoning you to sit next to her. Incidentally, the seat she chose for you was nestled in between her and the resident notetaker, Freckles.  
  
Leaning over the boy’s shoulder, you huskily murmured, “Whatcha doin’ there, Midoriya?” Sitting back in your seat, you admired your work. The boy erupted into a blushing mess, fumbling with his pen as it fell out of his hands.  
  
“I-I w-was just t-taking notes on y-your match!” The boy had you outclassed in the stutter department, that was for sure. You gave an amused “oh?” and tilted your head. You faked innocence with a light batting of eyelashes.  
  
“Y-yeah, and i-if you don’t mind, I-I’d love to ask you a f-few questions? About your quirk, I m-mean.” You smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder, egging Midoriya on to become even more of a mess.  
  
“O-oh, I’d love t-”  
  
**“Now, we’ve got no time to lose!! Let’s move on to the sixth match!!”** The banana-headed announcer cut you off, prompting you to take the boy’s pen out of his calloused hand.  
  
Midoriya exclaimed in bewilderment, but you paid no mind. On the page titled with your name, you scribbled down your phone number, all while the notebook rested on Midoriya’s lap.  
  
“Sorry for taking your notes without warning, I just thought it might be easier if you just texted or called me and asked? I don’t think an interview will go uninterrupted here.” You closed your eyes and gave the sweetest smile you could muster. In reality, you just didn’t want him to stop you from watching your soon-to-be opponents.  
  
_‘Hopefully the sweet-talking and light flirting makes him give in.’  
  
_Broccoli Boy waved his hands erratically. “I-it’s okay! I don’t mind! You’re right, anyway. . .” The boy then whipped out his phone and plugged in your number, stumbling with the keyboard every now and then. His fingers were jittery and he misspelled your name more times than you bothered to count.  
  
**“Offense and defense in one body! The dark samurai accompanied by Dark Shadow! From the hero course, it’s Tokoyami Fumikage!! Versus. . . All-purpose creation! She was admitted through recommendations, so her abilities are certified! From the hero course, it’s Yaoyorozu Momo!!”  
  
**The tailed boy from the cavalry battle leaned over Midoriya’s seat. “Midoriya, what do you think of this match?” He questioned.  
  
The boy next to you shifted his head ever-so-slightly toward the blond boy. “I think time will be the key.”  
  
Your ears perked up at this. From even a brief glance, you could gather that Broccoli had an exceptional talent for note-taking. The precise and detailed contents in his notebook were neat and easy to read--you were impressed. He would make for a great commentator on your competitors, possibly a way of gaining information on specific strengths and weaknesses.  
  
“Time”  
  
You took the time to study the two on stage. The bird-boy, Tokoyami, appeared quite relaxed. Arms crossed, his sharp eyes could pierce someone even a mile away. The girl, however, her eyes were wavering with unease. Yaoyorozu, despite being recommended, was blatantly unconfident in her abilities. It was obvious she was the over-thinking type; the kind that analyzes every angle before they’re willing to act.  
  
**“Sixth match, start!!”  
  
**The noirette had the word ‘stunned’ taped across her face. Bird boy leaped into action, calling forth his little spirit-thing.  
  
_‘Man, this is just too depressing to watch,’_ You sighed, leaning back in the red stands. Ojiro side-eyed you, wondering what was going through your head.  
  
In the end, the girl was absolutely obliterated. She poured her time and energy into defense, attempting to make room to think. Tokoyami probably saw through this, and continually rushed her with a barrage of attacks. As you thought, Yaoyorozu was incapable of thinking on-the-spot, which was her downfall.  
  
On the other hand, your next opponent, Tokoyami, was someone to watch out for. As Present Mic commented, he was an all-arounder: capable of both great offense and defense. You might be forced to use a few tentacles with him, and you smirked at the thought of being challenged.  
  
**“. . . Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow! Could it be the greatest quirk ever?!”  
  
**“Tokoyami-kun’s too amazing,” Midoriya commented with wide eyes. “I can’t believe he forced her out of bounds just by focusing his attacks on the shield Yaoyorozu-san made.”  
  
A drop of sweat trailed down Ojiro’s cheekbone, to your dismay. “He was trying not to hurt her?” The greenet nodded. “That’s how easy it was for him, huh? She must feel really frustrated. . .”  
  
“On the contrary, Ojiro-san,” Both boys directed their attention to you. “This frustration will likely be short-lived and will morph into something that makes her better. Hopefully, she gains more confidence in the meantime.” You tagged that last bit on the end to make it seem like you cared. In truth, you had to keep track of character development during this mission, as behaviors aren’t universally set. It can make things unpredictable in the end.  
  
The bushy-haired boy beamed, while the plain-looking blond had a wobbly smile. “Yeah, I guess you can look at it that way,” Ojiro replied.  
  
 **“Okay, let’s move on! Next up--!”  
  
**Your phone buzzed with a new message. “Ah, I’m sorry to leave you guys, but I should probably make it back to my own class before my match.” Giving a shallow bow, you thanked them for having you. “Don’t forget to text me, Midoriya-san!”  
  
Unexpectedly, Midoriya gave a rushed answer, saying he had somewhere to be as well. Ojiro sent you off with a kind wave, and Tsu did as well. You turned out of the hallway and your face melted like a candle into a snarl.  
  
_‘Fucking heroes.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ I remain astounded at how many people read this bs lol. I hope you guys like the longer chapter? Somehow I still feel like it was rushed ;
> 
> As for last week's big question on OC's, thank y'all for all the feedback :3 Unfortunately, I won't release anything about them since I don't even know if they'll make the book. The subplot is pretty messy rn :[ 
> 
> Oh, what the heck, IT'S A GUY. I'll throw a bone cause I feel bad lol
> 
> Big question! I have a half-finished drawing of the reader in the track uniform that I started a while ago. Should I still post it with no intention of finishing it?
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting!!! 
> 
> 5418 words


	10. 𝘍𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

**Taysuke**  
you forgot your meds today dumbass  
auntie was ready to throw hands  
anyway meet me by your stand~  
 _2:29 p.m._  
  
Throwing your head back in an exaggerated groan, your right eye twitched in agitation. The pulsating only furthered your exasperation, and you furiously palmed the twitching muscle. Eventually, you shot a text back to your annoying little cousin.  
  
 **Me**  
You shouldn’t be so casual while communicating, Taysuke. I will be there in a few minutes.  
 _2:30 p.m.  
  
_Taysuke was several sandwiches short of a functioning picnic. After the rather mysterious loss of his parents, the boy was practically taken in by your “family”. In fact, your mother almost certainly prefers the ditsy brunet; she glosses over any mistakes the boy makes and piles the blame on you. Taysuke doesn’t pity you for this whatsoever, not that you would indulge his pity, but the thought would be nice. He does small, technology-based help in your missions, and objectively, he’s horrible at it. Your success rate would skyrocket if only he were to be wiped off the planet. A brat, through and through, the universe would rejoice in his demise.  
  
Heavy footsteps carried you to your food stand, fists clenching unintentionally. You passed swarms of eager people, lightly shoving when need be. Before long, your blindfold-clad eyes found a deceivingly kind face attached to a loud outfit.  
  
“Cousin!” He cheered, and you slapped his outstretched hands away. The shit-eating grin he wore melted into his naturally snobbish features that you grew to hate. Everything about the boy made you irrationally angry, and in a way, you were _jealous_ of him.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Give me the goddamn medicine and fuck off.” You spat, hushed as to not make a scene. The harsh words only made Taysuke’s smile grow wider, splitting his pretentious face into two from one ear to the other.  
  
His hands were small, yet partially calloused from his novice tech work. They held the bag that presumably held your pills with vigor, clenching so tightly you couldn’t hope to rip it out of his hands without biting them off. His happy-go-lucky attitude made you want to strap him to a chair and perform surgery, sans the anesthesia.  
  
Taysuke steps back, bringing up a hand to stop you, while simultaneously guarding the paper sack with his body. “Not so fast! Your wonderful cousin just brought you the meds that you _so ignorantly_ forgot! Not only this, but I even packed a little goodie inside, just for you! Your wellbeing is always my top priority, you know?” The teasing got old fast, and you ducked under his extended hand and snatched the rolled-up sack.  
  
“Aww, man! I was gonna push for a ‘thank you’!” He whined, but his face held the undertones of a deadpan.  
  
Waving the surprisingly heavy bag in his face, you waved the brat a goodbye. “Please go away now.”  
  
Stomping off with an “I’m so gonna tell auntie” under his breath, you chuckled, glad to get a rise out of the fifteen-year-old boy.  
  
_‘Now that I think about it, why didn’t he do this goddamn mission?’_ You seethed, tearing open the bag. Inside was a mini container, holding only one red pill. Beside the container was a neat parcel, tied with twine. A small note adorned the neat package, reading “Fuel up!”. You could guess what was inside, and your stomach rumbled in neglect.  
  
_‘I should probably eat this and then get my shirt replaced afterward.’_ You grunted in content, putting back the contents of the bag. Suddenly, you stopped. _‘Where the fuck am I supposed to get an extra shirt, anyway?’_ At first, you thought of changing into your second tracksuit, but the extra was back in your locker on the main campus. Surely you weren’t the only person with a ruined uniform?  
  
Sighing, you figured you could eat first, ask questions later. You had time to spare, and you hadn’t eaten in a while. Thus, you began your journey to the bathroom, knowing that was the only spot completely free of cameras.   
  
Inside the familiar facility, you tore open the wrappings in the confinement of a stall. The meat had a mouth-watering gleam in the artificial lights, a sheen of red glistened, and you couldn’t help but eat it all in one go.  
  
This was the reason the medicine that you forgot was crucial: it was a quirk suppressant. Something parents feed their out-of-control children, mixed in with applesauce. While the mild effects of the drug wouldn’t wipe out your ghoulish tendencies entirely, it would keep your mouth from watering subconsciously, all while lowering your capabilities closer to your peers’ level.  
  
Truly, it would’ve been a saving grace, had you remembered to take it. It was a godsend there were no major mishaps, or you would’ve been in really deep shit. Ashido only commented on your regeneration, but you didn’t think the cameras caught it.  
  
_‘Better not count my chickens before they hatch,’_ You thought, bitterly. There were still a plethora of things that could still go wrong, and you had to ensure they didn’t. Perhaps this was the reason Taysuke wasn’t assigned to this mission, as he gave approximately one-and-a-half fucks before quitting.  
  
Languidly sucking your ring finger from its succulent red tint, a deafening explosion shook the entirety of the arena. Akin to an earthquake, your belongings threatened to fall out of your lap, but you caught them just in time.  
  
_‘An explosion. . . So that means it’s already Bakugou vs. Uraraka?’_   
  
You popped your pill and wrapped everything up. Once the current round ended, it wouldn’t be too long before your next one began. Hoping to not repeat past mistakes, you beelined to the prep room. This meant you would miss the Todoroki vs. Midoriya match, but you were sure you could catch up later. The problem with your shirt still lingered in your mind, but you still had no way of fixing it.  
  
Opening the door to Prep Room 3, your eyes met an underwhelming empty room. You settled into a cheap chair and twiddled your thumbs. Luckily, your close proximity to the stage allows you to hear Present Mic’s announcements crystal clear. Though, you were sure most of Musutafu could hear him.  
  
**“The first match of the second round!! At this year’s sports festival, both have shown top-class performances! Midoriya!! Versus. . . Todoroki!! It’s like two great rivals fighting against each other! Now. . . Start!!”  
  
**You were catching serious FOMO with the build-up of the round. Booms of wind and ice met your ears, teasing you on what you couldn’t see. It was frustrating, to say the least. Anticipation crawled through your limbs, itching and burning. Electric anticipation ran through your fingers, and you ran your hands through your hair to ease the tension.  
  
_“Bzzzt. Bzzzt.”_ A familiar vibration pulsed in your pocket. Reaching for your device, a groan escaped your lips when you saw the caller ID.  
  
“Hey, mother.”  
  
The witch scoffs. “Don’t ‘hey’ me. I assume Taysuke has already delivered the pill that you oh-so- _absentmindedly_ forgot?” You glowered at the table. You knew this call was coming, but it didn’t make it any less painful.  
  
“Yes, that was an error on my part. It won’t happen again.” You curtly replied, cursing the fact you still lived with the damn wretched woman.  
  
A mocking chuckle sounds through your phone’s speaker. “One more mistake and you know what will happen. You should be happy, as I’m feeling _very_ lenient today. You’ve made countless missteps already.” She tuts, the clicks reverberated in your ears and made you want to pull your hair out. Even after she stopped, the sound echoed in your head, bouncing in your skull. “In fact, I just got a new _shipment_ , and I would _love_ to test it on you. Don’t fuck this up.”  
  
An icy feeling coats your nerves, crawling up your vertebrate like a ladder. A fingernail finds itself embedded in your balmy palm.  
  
“Yes, mother.” And with that, she hangs up. An out-of-body ringing marks the disconnection, yet you can’t find it in yourself to take the phone off your cheek. You felt utterly numb, and nothing stimulated you other than the muscle beating in your hollow rib cage.  
  
Your body jolts in self-preservation, head ringing. Sometimes, you wished you could’ve been fucking _normal_ , but in the end, you supposed it was karma that gifted you a devil for a mother. You’ve killed countless humans. More importantly, you didn’t feel anything after ripping a soul from its mortal body, that was your true sin. Shaking your head, you filed your thoughts away for another day.  
  
Humming a tune with no distinct melody, you stretched in mindless thought. You reminded yourself of _anything_ but your mother.  
  
As the loud crashes ensued just out of your reach, your mind conjured a picture of Tokoyami. The bird boy was a fierce competitor, and he shines in strength rather than flashiness. In order to get your technical “fourth place”, you didn’t have to win the match. This being said, outright throwing the fight would procure suspicion. Miniscule or not, suspicion would do you no good when your mistakes added up.  
  
So with forfeiting out of the question, you thought of a plausible way to make Bird Brain win. Seeing as you used your quirk for the prelims, but not for your fight with Ashido, you would likely have to bring forth your “tentacles”. Dark Shadow wasn’t something frail, but deep down, you knew the inexperience of Tokoyami would bring his downfall in a real fight with you. Based on his previous fight, he didn’t appear to fight ruthlessly as compared to, say, Bakugou. He obviously prefers pushing his opponent out of bounds, as seen with the shield girl, causing no harm to either side. It’s possible you could use that. . .  
  
Something in your head clicked. _‘The shield girl! I swear Present Mic said something about all-purpose creation. I guarantee a hero won’t turn down a way to help a fellow student. I should be back in time, plus I get to watch an interesting match.’_ Smugly curling your lips, you stood from your chair. Droplets of fear clung to the back of your skull, but you disregarded it.  
  
_‘I can deal with Mother when I get home. I need to focus on the present.’  
  
_A particularly loud roar of power cut you from your thoughts. It sounded something like thunderous hail outside, and your ears cowered in overstimulation. Wincing, you cupped an ear and hoped to just get on with it. Canadian Flag and Broccoli Boy had some of the most outwardly offensive quirks out of the first years, but that definitely did not warrant an attack on your ears.  
  
If you were a betting man, which you really weren’t, you would bet that the two boys’ fight would deal great damage to Cementoss’s stage. With the exploding gales of wind, alongside the shrill whistle of ice, you could almost guarantee they were absolutely obliterating the arena. This, in turn, secures you extra time to get proper clothing without the prospect of being late.  
  
Hopping towards 1-A’s familiar seating area, the Christmas duo’s fight prolonged. In front of you, with a slight jump in their step, was the red-headed Kirishima. He seemed eager to catch the match, so he far outpaced your relaxed movements.  
  
Entering the hero class’s section once again, you scanned your surroundings. Kirishima had beat you by a handful of seconds, and already started a conversation with Boom Boy. All of a sudden, a yellow-haired boy jumped out of nowhere and into your personal space.  
  
“Hi, I’m Kaminari Denki. Do you like raisins?” The yellow-haired boy asked. You were completely blindsided and had no idea where the question came from. A smash of ice sounds in the distance.  
  
“Uh, not particularly? Why?” You asked hesitantly. You really just came for a shirt, not for some guy to ask you weird questions. The guy’s hair had an interesting black streak to it, almost like a lightning bolt. In the depths of your thoughts, you questioned whether it was dyed or not.  
  
Kaminari’s eyes sparkled, and his hands wrapped into excited fists near his chest. “How about a date?” He asked.  
  
_‘A date is like a raisin, isn’t it? Just, like, larger?’  
  
_“I’ve never tried one, but they don’t appear exceedingly appetizing. Is there a reason to ask me this?” Your voice slowly became choppy and impatient. You hoped dearly that humans didn’t have a weird date craze. Not eating human foods, you never really got into food-related trends. Or any trends, for that matter.  
  
“Pff!” Students within your proximity sputtered, yet still kept their eyes trained on the match. Todoroki was gaining rapidly on Midoriya in a wild goose chase.  
  
**“Todoroki, undaunted by Midoriya’s power, moves in to close the gap!”  
  
**A green-haired girl (Tsuyu, if you recall correctly) called your name, earning your attention. “You’re very dense,” She stated, to which you cocked your head.  
  
_‘Did I misunderstand? Oh god, if they make me eat a fucking date because of this. . .’  
  
_“Haha! Pervert-chan, you’re really funny!” Uraraka comments, making you sweatdrop at the new nickname. Her voice came rather drearily to your ears, and upon closer inspection, you noticed her beat-up face. Scuffs and a bandaid adorned her round cheeks, and an alarming red encircled her eyes. You deduced she was crying because of her match, which she presumably lost.  
  
Tape Elbows slapped his knee wildly, unable to cease laughing. “Oh man, Kaminari, this has gotta be your worst rejection so far!” Said male deflated, though he looked used to disappointment.  
  
“Ah,” You got everyone’s attention, “I don’t understand? What’s wrong with dates?” These kids were getting on your nerves, and it felt like you were left out of a child’s inside joke. Being out-of-the-know was exceedingly frustrating to you, even for trivial matters, such as dried fruits. More chuckles erupted after your comment. Your middle finger was itching for air.  
  
Another flurry of wind sounded off. This time, the blast of wind whipped through the student sections with substantial force; perhaps the boom exceeded those prior. Cool air nipped at your ears while your hair lifted abruptly, fluttering behind you. Red ties of your blindfold swirled, threatening to escape, so you secured the strip of cloth with your hands.  
  
“Whoa!” Kaminari starts again. “You nearly blew me away there!”  
  
_‘What. . . The fuck?’  
  
_“But I wasn’t the one who created the wind, Kaminari-san,” You stated, annunciating every word. Honestly, he sounded pretty stupid. Did he actually think you were the cause of it? He had eyes, right? “It was Midoriya-san who caused it.” Out of your peripherals, you saw the battered left hand, gripped with bruises.  
  
_‘A dangerous power, for sure.’  
  
_More laughter succeeded your comment, and your cheeks flared. Even Bakugou joined in with a muffled snort. There had to be something you weren’t getting here. Last time you came, there wasn’t all of this cryptic humor that evaded only you.  
  
Kirishima stuttered out your name through wheezes of amusement. “H-he’s flirting with you! He doesn’t. . . He doesn’t actually think you made the wind!” Tears of laughter ballooned in the corners of the male’s eyes, and you took notice of a tiny scar.  
  
Kaminari smiled sheepishly at you, almost as flustered as you.  
  
“In the beginning, he was asking you on a date! Not what you actually thought about the fruit, kero!” Ashido piped in, her own bubbling giggles added into the mix.  
  
_‘Well shit,’_ You deadpanned. _‘I just looked like a bumbling virgin just now. How the hell was I supposed to know he was flirting?’_  
  
Faking a shaky smile, you turned to Kaminari. “A-ah, I’m flattered, but why would you flirt with me when you can only see part of my face?”  
  
The boy began to answer but was cut off. “Kaminari flirts with anything that has a beating heart and boobs,” A bob-haired girl supplied. Her headphone jack-like earlobes flicked in the air. The aforementioned boy screeched out a yelp in denial.  
  
Tsuyu shrugs. “It’s better than Mineta. _He_ flirts with anything that has boobs.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the earlobe girl glance down dejectedly.  
  
**“Todoroki continues his relentless assault!! Could this next ice attack win it all?”  
  
**The group’s attention once again returns to the baronial fight between their classmates. Your cloaked vision spots Dip Dye’s frosted condition, and the light shivers that twitch his form.  
  
Shaking your digressing thoughts away, you put your mind back on track. _‘Fuck, I came here for a new shirt, not to entertain children!’_ You inched your way to Yaoyorozu while Broccoli Boy released explosive power at the cost of a finger. In fact, if you squint, you could see he reused an already-damaged digit.  
  
_‘The guy’s got guts. And extreme pain tolerance. Though, I’m sure adrenaline is giving him quite the high right now.’  
  
_Tapping on Ponytail’s shoulder, she flinched before locking her onyx eyes on you. “Hi! I’m Yaoyorozu Momo. Do you need anything?” You smiled and introduced yourself, adding a small smile.  
  
“A-ah, I’m sure you can see the damage to my uniform. Would it be presumptuous to think you could make me another? I can provide compensation-” The girl’s eyes lit up, and you were grateful she wasn’t opposed to the idea.  
  
A smile graced her delicate face. “Of course! No compensation is needed; I’m sure you want an undamaged top for your next match, no?” The girl began unbuttoning her own shirt, to your bewilderment. You knew she needed skin, but couldn’t she have done it in the bathroom, or something? Is she that shameless?  
  
“Here! I’m glad to do this for a fellow student,” The noirette handed you a fresh shirt. You thanked her profusely, pressing some type of compensation. As much as you didn’t want to hang around the hero wannabes any longer, you hated owing people. The debt wouldn’t wash away, no matter how much people refused payment.  
  
“If you’re that insistent on remunerating me, why don’t we be friends? You can call me Yaomomo, like my other friends,” She grins.  
  
You squint in thought. Yaoyorozu wasn’t as airheaded and cheerful like others you knew, but rather mature in the way she conducts herself. As the class deputy, she was an asset to boot. You would benefit greatly by being friends with her.  
  
“Sure, Yaomomo, I’d be glad to be friends with you.” You plastered a smile and thanked her.  
  
“Gimme everything you got! Come at me!!” Midoriya bellowed, enticing an angry two-toner to charge him. You say charge loosely, as the boy’s pace was near a stroll.  
  
_‘Someone’s running out of energy,’_ You blinked at the match, deciding you might as well catch the end of it. Settling down into a seat, you wished there was a forearm or something for you to munch on. Sadly, you had finished the last morsels your imbecile of a cousin gifted you. That, and you couldn’t openly eat human flesh around humans.  
  
Broccoli Boy, in a stroke of combat genius, managed to land a powered-up hit on Todoroki. The way the taller male was thrown like a rag doll was oddly satisfying to you, sending a twinge of pleasure down your body.  
  
**“What a hit! Things are really heating up!!”  
  
**In a montage of soulful, and oddly protagonistic speeches from Midoriya, the Todoroki was coerced into spontaneously combusting. A gush of heat met the stands, making you squirm slightly in discomfort.  
  
“Shoto!! So you’ve finally accepted it! Yes! Excellent!! It all starts now for you! With my blood pumping through your veins, you will surpass me. . . You will fulfill my ambitions!!” The steaming piece of shit boomed. The crowds went silent, unaware of how to take the situation,. Meanwhile, you suppressed a growl.  
  
_‘Even his yells of encouragement are self-serving. I’m surprised he could produce so many kids with his shriveled up genitalia. I would’ve assumed his sperm died in all of that heat.’_ You sighed audibly, and the duo on stage got into a position to fight. Both boys erupted in light: Dip Dye with fire and reflective ice, and Freckles with green lightning.  
  
Midoriya and Todoroki’s match came to an explosive end--literally. Your hearing rang significantly, and the sounds you could pick up were dampened. The final blast vibrated through your bones. It was fortunate that Iida and Vine Chick came before you, or you might’ve been one sense short in your competition with Tokoyami.  
  
When Mic prompted an explanation, Aizawa provided. **“The air that had been cooled thoroughly was suddenly heated up and expanded.”  
  
“That’s what created this explosion. . .?”  
  
**Clouds of debris, smoke, and steam bloomed, shrouding the victor.  
  
**“What a blast, though, and what heat! Can’t see a thing. Has the match been decided?”  
  
**Midoriya’s iconic red sneakers emerged from the abundant smoke, revealing the thoroughly beat boy to be out of bounds. Soon thereafter, the Canadian flag appeared, donning half of a shirt and buckets of sweat.  
  
_‘Gah, he’s so sweaty, yet. . .’_ Your partially-satiated stomach was confused as to whether or not the boy was edible. Salt licked his face and wonderfully sculpted abdomen, and steam rose behind him. _‘Fuck, do I want to eat him or not? Ugh, I can’t decide.’_  
  
With that, you said your goodbyes and pursued the prep room. Extensive clean up would have to take place, and then one more matchup before yours. A pristine shirt in-hand, your thoughts battled itself as you trotted to your seclusion. Cotton had long wormed into your ear canals, effectively deafening you from your surroundings.  
  
Opening the door to the familiar Prep Room 3, it was as you left it. Flopping down into your chair, you pulled the tattered top off of your body, exposing a standard black sports bra underneath. Discarding the old uniform, you tugged the replacement on, fumbling a bit at getting the fabric to stretch across your chest.  
  
_‘Ah, I never gave Yaomomo my size,’_ You ascertained. _‘She. . . must’ve underestimated my tits, huh? Honestly, with her triple D’s, I guess I can’t judge.’_ You breathed out in a huff, finally getting the article of clothing on. Slightly strained at the chest, the fabric clung to your figure in a rather uncomfortable way.  
  
Announcements commemorated the rebuilt stage, though the usually earsplitting yells were deadened by your impaired hearing.  
  
_‘Damn, they just fixed the arena, huh? This could take longer than I thought. . .’  
  
_You stretched in restlessness, a pounding twinge in each of your ears. You found your feet tapping and legs shaking. Tedium seeped through your pores, eliciting an annoyed grunt. Pulling out your dated phone, you searched for something to ease your mental state. Scrolling through various news articles, you found that Stain was becoming more and more prevalent in mainstream media. His attacks were climbing at an exponential rate, most of which had no eyewitnesses. Admittedly, the antihero was impressive in his own right; he was on the brink of killing the most people since the dawn of All Might.  
  
Tapping on what appeared to be the only non-Stain related page, you learned that the nearby mall would be introducing a new high-end shoe store. As your eyes summarized the page, you considered going.  
  
_‘It’s been a while since I’ve visited the mall. . . I wonder if I should begin frequenting in-person stores, instead of online shopping. The sizing isn’t always accurate online.’_ Your mind meandered through meaningless thoughts, most of which were uncharacteristically docile.  
  
**“The stage has been restored once again by Cementoss! It’s resident engine legs, Iida!! Versus. . . Godly vines, Ibara!! Ready?! Start!!”  
  
**The crowds cheered, possibly louder after the previous round. The spectators’ excitement swelled after the epic show of strength, ready for more.  
  
Unfortunately, judging by Midnight’s swift call of the match, Iida wiped out Ibara quickly. The fight was lackluster in length and intensity and paled in comparison to other rounds. This effect was so prevalent, it was probable it would affect public opinion on average students.  
  
_‘Perhaps I can spin this in my favor. Quick and simple, I’ll allow Tokoyami to push me out of bounds with little resistance. The media won’t care, with superstars like Todoroki to pay attention to.’  
  
_Rotating your wrists, you pushed yourself to your feet. Next, you stretched your neck, guiding your head with your hand. Loud cracks followed your pre-fight preparation, and your body loosened as a result. Finally, you allow your _kagune_ to poke out of your back, in order to break in the new uniform. The tearing of fabric rips through the empty room. The end result was a little neater than the other, and the hole was more compact. Twisting your back left and right, you found the cloth to still be sturdy.  
  
Step by step, you made your way to the familiar concrete platform. Perfecting your course of action, your eyes met those of the Bird Boy’s, dark resolve swimming in his angled optics.  
  
_‘Quick and simple. I form my tentacles, perform a half-hearted fight, and lose forgettably. It’s practically foolproof-’_  
  
Your wandering gaze settled on a certain flame hero. His turquoise eyes burned brighter than the flames that licked his shoulders and face, and they were drilling a hole through _you_.  
  
_‘What the actual fuck does Endeavor want with_ me _?’_ You wondered, warily eyeing the brute of a man.  
  
There was no mistake; his stares held steadfastly. Eye contact locked between you, though, you weren't sure if he could tell. It was almost awkward--you had no clue what the number two hero was thinking, yet he never blinked. Your eyebrows twitched, attempting to intertwine in a deep furrow. You kept your emotions on lock, however, and snapped your attention back to Tokoyami. Endeavor's eyes never left you, and the unfaltering attention made your skin itch, much like your encounter in the hallway.  
  
Present Mic introduces both you and Tokoyami, but you couldn’t seem to pay attention. The residual gaze of the flame hero bore holes into your soul, and for some reason, it felt like he already knew what you were. That you were a _ghoul_.  
  
**“Start!!”  
  
**_‘Fuck!’_  
  
Tokoyami got the leg up on you, with your momentary distraction. Dark Shadow was cast across the stage, zig-zagging at a dangerous speed. By muscle memory alone, your _kagune_ bubbled at your back. Blood red spilled out of the small of your back, into two distinct tentacles. Blood thumped harshly in your eye sockets, and you knew your sclera was a deep black at this point. Digging one tentacle into the ground, you swiftly evaded Dark Shadow’s attack by pulling yourself to safety.  
  
Cohesive thought eluded you as Big Bird never ceased attacking. Relentless assaults kept you on your toes, making your brain resort to autopilot. Of course, Endeavor’s stare didn’t help you whatsoever; his knowing smirk put you on a razor’s edge. Shivers crinkled your spine, and it was almost overwhelming.  
  
Suddenly, Tokoyami began to step closer, lessening Dark Shadow’s stretch. In doing so, the shadow monster appeared to become stronger.  
  
_‘Does the range affect his strength? Or maybe it’s more draining?’_ You thought, catching yourself quickly. _‘Do I want to lose this fight or not? I need to follow orders.’  
  
_You manually lowered your agility, along with your reaction time. Your opponent appeared to notice this; however, and narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Are you tired already?” He asked, sending another attack via Dark Shadow. This time, the little parasite attempted to sweep you off stage. You forced a falter in your steps, and you crumpled to your knees. Quickly gaining composure, you recovered back to your feet.  
  
Tokoyami’s head was downturned in cool intimidation, arms outstretched, calling once more for his shadow friend. The sentient monster revved up for what looked to be a straightforward attack, claws outstretched like knives dipped in twilight. You prepared yourself for a lazy roll dodge, but, once again, Trash Fire caught your attention. If you weren’t imagining it, his fire was burning brighter. A piercing gaze that laid steady robbed you of your wits.  
  
_‘Seriously, what does that bastard want?’_  
  
Tokoyami could blindly sense that you weren’t fully engaged in the fight. Using it to his advantage, Dark Shadow crept into your blind spot and swiped at you. In your stupor, you only managed half of a dodge. The shadow’s claw caught your torso, running parallel between two of your ribs. The shifting black tore a new hole in your new uniform, carrying into your silky flesh. A deep laceration was brandished for the world to see.  
  
**“Tokoyami draws first blood!! But who will come out on top?!”  
  
**_‘Shit, that stung. I should really start losing now before this gets too messy.’  
  
_Lightly cupping your wound, you made for a weak attack. Pouncing, Dark Shadow caught you mid-air and started to push you out-of-bounds. Faking a struggle, you pushed back, loosely clinging to the concrete with your _rinkaku_. Ultimately, Dark Shadow overpowered you, and you were sent over the edge.  
  
“Tokoyami continues onto the next round!” Midnight declared. The aforementioned bird-headed boy raised a hand to help you up. You took it graciously and thanked him.  
  
“It’s no problem. I’m sorry, I was a bit harsher than I intended. I’m glad you have an accelerated healing factor.” With his comment, you whipped your head to your closed skin. Dribbles of blood were remnant, but the wound had sewn itself back together. The tightness of the shirt only pulled the fabric taut, widening the gaping tear and showcasing the flawless flesh.  
  
Your body went on shutdown: your bones snapped into a rigid posture, your heart raced in your limbs. Most of all, your head was occupied with one thing only.  
  
_‘The pill didn’t work in time. If it had, the wound wouldn’t have closed until at least the next hour. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Mother is going to fucking kill me.’_ Dread washed over you like a cold shower, running between the roots of your hair pooling in your chest. _‘I. . . Failed. My mission is practically compromised.’  
  
_“H-hey-ahem. Are you okay? You appear. . . Somewhat stunned. Would you like me to take you to Recovery Girl?” The bird male pressed you for an answer, but you couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Your throat felt the pressure of a firm hand, and your windpipe felt as if it was being crushed.  
  
_‘It’s the first major mistake I’ve made since. . . Ever.’_ You stared blankly, stupefied at your loss. This mission was just riddled with your mistakes, your shortcomings. Your mother was not blind to these blunders, either.  
  
_‘It all adds up.’_ The phrase rang in your head, holding all the more weight than before. With your televised mistake, people with half a brain could string together your tentacles, healing factor, and lack of eyesight to being a ghoul.  
  
_“One more mistake and you know what will happen.”  
  
_You really needed a PR, now more than ever.  
  
Banana Head’s amplified speaking broke you from your trance. Blinking rapidly, you caught a worried bird boy’s eye.  
  
Barely managing a facade, you mustered a small smile. “Ah, you must’ve been pretty worried, huh? I’m completely fine! Haha, I guess I was just mad at myself for losing. . .” You trailed off, hoping the edgy guy would leave it at that.  
  
“It’s okay,” He started, much to your distaste. You really didn’t want to entertain a conversation at the moment. You had to focus on not dying first. “I understand your disappointment. You did well, and put up a good fight.”  
  
_‘Tch. Good fight my ass. I had to_ try _to lose, dipshit.’  
  
_Tokoyami gave a small bow, and you said your thanks. The two of you parted ways, and you were finally alone with your thoughts.  
  
_‘I’m screwed.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm sorry the chapter took me quite a while. I can usually only bring myself to write at night, and lately, my nights have been occupied. For that, I apologize :( This chapter was a little odd, but I hope you all still find it enjoyable.
> 
> AND OH MY GOD I AM SO PUMPED FOR THE STAIN ARC !!! I already have most of it planned out and I am PUMPED !!!
> 
> Once again (I might never stop saying this) I'm surprised at how many people are reading this. I'm kind of planning a cute lil 500 heart special scene if you guys would like that. . . ?
> 
> Super important question: Who do y'all want to take part in the special? I'm thinking it'll be canonical to the fic, too.
> 
> On a more serious note, be safe, both with COVID-19 and the protests. I hope you guys are doing well :) Please remember that black lives matter, and to research, protest, donate, and improve yourself as much as you can. It takes constant upkeep to be antiracist, but we can do it together. 
> 
> Thank you for reading ♡
> 
> 5525 words


	11. Chapter 11

Numb. 

All you could feel was numb.

Following your incredibly undignified fumbles, your mind went into overdrive. Immediately after, however, your nerves closed down their receptors, and your brain discontinued gaining information. The arena was coated with a thick blur, and your mind was even foggier than when you were brainwashed. The horror was absorbed by your shaking body, and you were eerily still. 

As your limbs stiffly took you outside of the stadium, many came to congratulate you. Faintly, you recall Monoma and Kendo patting you on the back for getting so far. Monoma even chattered about how well you’d fit in with Class 1-B. You did your best to reciprocate their excitement, but your face felt as if it were freshly injected with botox, or maybe as if it were out in the cold for too long. Your signals to make a smile weren’t received and the duo read the room eventually. Tetsutetsu, Ibara, some 1-A extras, even your class president, Saeki Chiyuri, came to congratulate you, but all were promptly brushed off by your unforgiving demeanor. 

At some point, you realized you were crying. If it was the burn of your eyes, the heat of your cheeks, or the irritating dampness of your blindfold, you didn’t quite know. Sniffing, you untied your blindfold and wiped away the tears. Pocketing the sodden cloth, you struggled with a deep breath.

_‘It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Pull yourself together, damn it. You have to meet with Hound Dog.’_

Quivering lungs aside, your entire being was off-kilter. Getting your shit together was impertinent. Everything that frightened you would come at a later time, so there was no use worrying about it now. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

“You did good, kid!” The blond-colored male towered over you, patting you on the back. “You made it to fourth place, just like I thought you would!” 

As you calmed down a bit, you could finally feel the corners of your lips tug. “Thank you for believing in me, Inui-sensei. I appreciate you going to these lengths for me.”

Hound Dog's mouth was obscured by a muzzle, but you could still see sharp teeth curl into a smile. “The principal typically isn’t busy until the third-year stage, so I scheduled a meeting with him for you. He’s in his office. Do you know where that is?.” 

Hound Dog gave you one last rough slap on the back, and you affirmed you knew where the principal’s office was. Giving one last thanks, you dipped into a bow of parting. 

_‘A meeting with Nezu, huh? I guess it’s fun seeing a little rat bear talk.’_

Measured steps took you straight to the principal’s faraway office. Dark tendrils crept back into your head, and it was strenuous to keep focused on the task at hand. You would have to play it safe with Nezu; despite his appearance, he’s extraordinarily intelligent due to his quirk. You couldn’t afford to keep adding mistakes to the pile, especially within the proximity of the principal himself. 

Stepping into the minimalist room, you were met with the principal’s kind rat eyes and a greeting.

“Good afternoon! You performed exceptionally at the Sports Festival, I was impressed.” Nezu comments. His disproportionately large paws rested in front of him and motioned you to sit.

You thanked him and took a seat in a cushioned chair across from the mammal. Papers splayed out on the mahogany, all of which pertained to the heroics course. 

_‘Gah, I hate paperwork.’_ You internally complained, yet you maintained a neutral face. Your fingers reached out to graze the white sheets, and you counted several. Hero costume, waivers, schedule, rubrics, outlines, they were all there. 

“This may look like a lot, but it is all necessary. First, I would like to discuss your general transfer.” You lackadaisically nodded along, preparing your solemn mind for a whirlwind of information. “I trust you know that classes in Yuuei do not exceed 20 students per classroom. As such, with your plans you transfer in, one student must transfer out. It is a competitive career, after all.” 

Scratching the back of your neck, you feigned hesitance and worry. “Ah, h-how does that work, exactly?”

“I’m glad you asked! There will be a staff meeting that determines if you are deserving of a transfer. If you are, then we will discuss which student is no longer fit to be in the heroics department.” The scarred bear held a nonchalant presence the entire time, perhaps a facade not unlike your own. 

“I was informed of your ‘deal’ with Hound Dog. I agree with his requirements; because you attained fourth place, I’m sure everyone will concur that you deserve to be in the department of heroics. Based on your transcript here,” The animal slides a sheet of paper to you, naming all of your current grades in the semester, “You are doing remarkably well in your core classes, which only helps your case.” 

It took you a hot second to get over Nezu’s word vomit and to then process everything he was saying.

 _‘So basically, he thinks I’ll get in no problem, but someone has to be transferred out first.’_ Your face twitched in unrest.

“Thank you for your high praise, Principal Nezu.” You tipped your head in a bow. After a few seconds, you met his eyes once again, nonverbally asking if you could leave. 

Nezu smiles, and his lengthy white tail sways almost imperceptibly. “There is one last thing I would like to talk to you about, then you can gather your papers and take your leave.” You refrain from sighing and bob your head in agreement. 

“During the Sports Festival, pro heroes often draft students they take interest in. It is a tradition for hero students to intern at agencies that have given offers. With your top-eight placement within the festival, pros have surely taken notice of you. However, because of your late transfer, you have the option to opt-out of these internships for sake of acclimatization. Nevertheless, you will still be required to take part in the midterm physical exams.” 

You hummed in thought. _‘So I can decide against interning, huh? That makes my job easier. Too bad I can’t skip exams.’_

“I will choose to opt-out of interning if that’s okay with you.” You grinned at Nezu’s quick agreement. 

The small animal gathers the many papers that covered the desk. “Yes, I understand. Please keep in mind that you are still expected to prepare and train during the time of internships.” Handing the stack of papers to you, Nezu pops out of his office chair. “I look forward to discussing this with the other teachers. You probably are to transfer, so please have these papers filled out by the end of the small break. Good luck!” Pink paws waved to you as you exited, and you replied with your farewells.

Immediately following your departure, the well-acquainted numbness surged into you once again. With a sigh, your thumbs prodded the sizable stack of papers in your hands. 

_‘These might take a while.’_

* * *

The last of the first-year stage was finished when you arrived. You even missed the awards ceremony. Hoards of students were making their way off stage, chatting away at the results and Bakugou’s current situation. The hedgehog was currently getting untied from a cement block, making you huff amusedly. Through the grapevine, you learned of Bakugou and Todoroki’s showdown and the snuffing of flames that took place. 

_‘I feel like that’s a little excessive. . . But he probably deserved it.’_ You rationalized the actions taken. Even when the heavy metal restraints fell, the boy remained angry beyond belief. The gold medal hung from the explosive blond in a rather entertaining way.

Succeeding the conclusion of the first year stage, the first years were to meet in their respective homerooms changed into their regular uniforms. Afterward, students had the option to go home or watch other years’ performance. Typically, you would go straight home with the option, but in avoidance of your mother, you supposed you could stay a while longer.

That is if the damn witch wasn’t so insightful.

A buzz of your phone displayed a threat under the tag “Mother”. Taking a glance, your plans of avoidance were sadly crushed. 

**Mother**

Be home within the hour.

_3:32 p.m._

_‘Shit.’_ You were tired of your mother’s games. The endless play of cat and mouse was sapping your life, and you desperately held onto the fact that you would defeat her soon. Everything you’ve built climaxes at your mother’s death. She is the antagonist of your story.

Filing into 1-K’s classroom, you were met with expectant eyes. Your peers eyed you with mixed emotions: excitement, admiration, fear, anger. The class and its residents no longer held any value to you, so you didn’t indulge their nonverbal prodding.

“Alright everyone, you have the next two days off to recuperate. Make sure to keep those brains working! I have uploaded multiple pdfs of new ways to simulate organizing, analyzing, and planning a multitude of business operations. . .” Your eyes glazed over, and you praised the fact that you would no longer sit in such boring classes again.

 _‘Two days off though,’_ You inhaled deeply into interlocked hands, taking deep breaths. _‘I can’t-’_

You were cut off by your teacher spouting your name rather cheerfully. All nineteen of your classmates’ eyes were on you, and you quickly straightened up. Snapping out of your previous thoughts, you turned to the teacher. 

“Congratulations on placing in the top eight! I’m sure you all have many compliments for her, but please do so at a later date. I’m sure all of your businesses will be picking up once it hits the third year stage, so focus all of your energy into maintaining sales! If you are going home, please check in with me to sign out. That’s all I have for you today, you are dismissed.”

Glancing at your phone’s display, it read 3:39. Dread hit you like a tsunami; you still had to check out and make it home. Frantically getting up, you rushed up to your teacher’s podium.

“Going home?” You nodded, anxiously tapping your foot. Eventually, the teacher gave you a thumbs up and an adieu, but you booked it and never looked back. Grabbing your backpack from your locker, your peripherals fogged with how fast you were moving. Approximately three minutes passed since you last checked. 

You bit your thumb, sprinting to your house. _‘Can I make it home in twenty minutes? Usually, it takes me thirty with public transport, considering wait times.’_ Sharp incisors sliced the pad of your thumb, effectively clearing your head. _‘Fuck it. I’ll have to free run.’_

Slipping into an alley, you began to undress. Shoving off your skirt revealed black spandex underneath. Next, you took off your tie and blazer, shoving both into your backpack. When you finished stripping, you dug into your bag for a mask. Blind fingers searched, finally landing on familiar leather. With your mask on, you summoned four tentacles to your back.

 _‘Can’t have anyone recognize I’m a student at Yuuei, can I?’_ With everything squared away, you took off. The “disguise” took much of your precious time, but it was necessary to keep your identity a secret. You couldn’t fathom what your mother would do if you were discovered.

Flinging from building to building, running on sheer adrenaline, a dark voice in your head told you it was all futile; you weren’t going to make it. Your legs strained and your breathing was erratic, but it was a lost cause. What little hope you had drained out of you when you saw your mother’s form. Landing on your secluded porch, you came to terms with the terror that ate at you.

Mother’s lip snarled cruelly. “You’re _late_ ,” She bit out, a short, yet cold tone emanated from her mouth. You collapsed to your knees, hovering between consciousness and blacking out. Ragged breaths racked your abdomen, so much so that it was painful. Liquid fell from your eyes.

A hand dug into your arm and pulled you inside. Nails dug into your even flesh, shooting pain up to your shoulder. Like a lifeless doll, you fell into a chair with a push. 

*******

“I told you to be here within the hour. Can you not understand simple directions?” She questioned with a hard slap to your cheek. Air had yet to permeate your lungs, so you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. Something told you she didn’t want an answer, anyway. 

It took you a minute to realize you were being bound to the chair. The hyperventilation brought electric buzzing to your limbs, rendering them useless and unfeeling. The thick, bristly ropes only left ghosts of a sensation on your wrists. Tugging your arms tighter behind your back, the deranged woman completed a knot.

Next came your legs. Though easier to see, blotches of black altered your vision to the point where you just closed your eyes. The buzzing soon dulled into a tingling sensation, and you could feel the pressure that dug into you. 

“Hmm. Should I tie your chest? Last time you thrashed so much it was hard to do things cleanly.” The woman tapped a finger to her lips in thought. “I kind of liked it, though.”

Tears flowed freely from your cheeks. “Damn you,” You breathed quietly. 

“You look like you’re begging me to tie you up,” Your mother grabbed another rope to further bind you to the chair. Strong twists of cable glued your back to the cold wood, and you let out a muffled wail.

You attempted a struggle once more, and this time your _kagune_ bubbled against the chair. You felt the tension increase in the wood, but suddenly your mother slapped you much harsher than the last. You know your skin was beet red, as the hit sent you reeling.

“You stupid bitch. Try that again and I’ll kill you.” She snapped, rummaging in a nondescript cardboard box. The clinking of glass was prominent, and the witch’s hand emerged with a syringe. Flicking it twice, she squeezed a few drops of the solution.

 _‘Rc suppressants,’_ You cringed, recalling the name from before. _‘I can only use my_ kagune _until she injects me with that. But if I escape, she’ll kill me instantaneously.’_ Biting your lip, you made the excruciating decision to stay quiet and submissive. _‘At least I’ll live this way. I’ll live. I’ll live.’_ The chant ensued as Mother pried open your right eye. 

A twisted smile donned her lips. “Don’t blink now,” She said, as the hypodermic needle nears your sclera. You attempt to squeeze your eyes shut, not because the injection would hurt, but what would come after that. Your pupils rolled to the back of your head in your struggle, cutting you off from seeing the smirk on the woman’s lips.

Rc suppressants impair _kagune_ usage and affect regeneration time for ghouls. The main reason your mother uses it; however, is because it makes you susceptible to knives and the like. The thick, durable ghoul skin that coats you becomes as flimsy and delicate as a human’s. Mother explores the boundaries of what it can do by experimenting on your body once every several months. Through her sadistic tendencies, she finds various torture methods that procure the best face. 

The needle was in and out, and you could already feel the effects of the suppressant. Mother stroked your arm, rambling about the new “toys” she had gotten for you. She held out a [circular contraption](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/96/d7/04/96d7042ad376e40c6e722691bc682bc1.jpg), lined with spikes. Drowsiness had slowly made its way to saturate your state of being, but your anxiety sharpened your senses. As she clamped your neck with the metal device, you could acutely feel the prongs draw blood. The liquid drooled down your neck, and you stood stock-still to not impale yourself further. 

“My, my. You look so pretty with that on. Why don’t you look so pretty and docile all the time?” The wench sang out, giving your new collar a good jostle. The spikes ran deeper into your neck, eliciting a wet cough from your chapped lips. Gritting your teeth, you muttered an insult.

Next, she held up another [pronged apparatus](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/96/Fomfr_breast_ripper.jpg), but this time it looked similar to a staple remover. She lightly traced the metal with her fingertips, as if admiring its beauty. Disgustingly, the only time your mother was calm was when she tortured you.

Meeting your eyes with an excited and crazed look, she smiled devilishly. “They call this one the breast ripper. I’m sure you can figure out what this means?” A one-noted laugh echoes in the small room, and she gives the device a testing snap. “You know what to do.”

“N-nine hundred ninety-three,” You began counting backward from one thousand by sevens as a way to keep consciousness. This was a tactic the witch picked up from another sadistic ghoul, one you can’t recall the name of. You had started using it only recently, but the subtraction was already getting easier. By proxy, so was losing consciousness.

Your bottom lip wavered as the crude metal neared your chest. Four prongs surrounded your right breast, and your mother tightened her hold. The sharp edges dug into the plush flesh, effectively clamping around the mound with white-hot pain. You scream. Profuse dribbles of blood pooled in your lap, and you squirmed helplessly, anticipating what comes next.

“Nine hundred eighty-six.”

An almost erotic pleasure masked Mother’s face as she mercilessly tugged your breast from your ribcage. Screams bellow from your throat, and the spiked collar drove further into you. A nauseating feeling of the last sinews being ripped from your chest made bile rise in your esophagus. A gory scene was left, and you did all you could to not look.

“God,” Mother grabs your chin into her bloodied hand. “You always make the best expressions.” 

A wobbling grimace crawls and settles onto your face. “Nine. . . Nine hundred seventy-nine,” You sob. Pain emanates deeply from your chest, and your body is shocked by the torture.

Fibers crawl up the exposed gore of your chest, slowly regenerating. The witch smiles in delight, moving onto your other breast. The process is repeated, and the fabric of your shirt is completely shredded. With every regrowth, your chest was left exposed. This fact seemed further please Mother. 

The sick woman never shied away from more. . . Sexual means of torture. Though she didn’t go further than this, herself, as she always finds faces of pain more arousing. This being said, she would often call in people to take advantage of you. These “sessions” were often precursors to the physical torture you face currently. Whenever you resisted the drugs or sex, you would be beaten bloody. You were well aware of the fact that Mother gets paid quite heftily for the sessions as well, but you’ve never seen a single dollar.

“If you didn’t fuck up so much, maybe I wouldn’t have to do this. Hmm?” She raised the bloodied metal to your chin, lifting your head. Your head fights between begging for mercy and resisting. As if the left and right parts of your brain were splitting, that’s what it felt like.

Paying no mind, the devil continued. Again, again, again. A part of you was ripped off, only for it to grow back patiently. Again, again, again. 

Chest heaving with heavy breaths, you figure you’ve suffered through about five regrows for each breast. The process was excruciating and taxing, leaving you completely winded. Your vocal cords were shredded from screaming in pain, and your voice had already developed a raspy tone. 

_‘Two more days. I can suffer through two more days.’_ You consoled yourself, salt marks stained your drained cheeks. 

Mother stood up and snapped the device together. “This is getting old,” She stated, sighing dramatically. It was almost as if a different part of her came out. You’ve observed this in the past: her normally task-oriented self finds contentment through the torture of others. 

You were made painfully aware of the spined choker around your neck when you attempted to get a better look at Mother’s doing. Cold metal spikes drove through the roped skin and gore, tearing an external jugular. Gasping, you tried to reach for your neck but was restrained by the rope.

“Tsk tsk. Are you that curious?” The woman asks, dancing humor in her tone. Crimson dribbled down your exposed front, drawing warm rivers across your gooseflesh skin. 

The witch held a [new contraption](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c6/16XX_Daumenschraube_anagoria.JPG/200px-16XX_Daumenschraube_anagoria.JPG), one that you knew well. The instrument was three-pronged, and the middle had a screw-like figure. A metal plate spanned all three prongs, and a wing nut adorned the screw. It was a thumbscrew to crush your fingers and thumbs.

“Fuck you,” You whimper, hoping to retain dignity. Chills crawled up your arms as you anticipated the drilling pain of the new apparatus. 

Setting up the thumbscrew, your mother hummed an unrecognizable tune. She ignored your act of defiance, not sparing a glance. The fact of the matter was that you were still weak. So weak that Mother could still take advantage of you like this and even sing a song. That truth was more painful than the physical injuries you sustained. 

Following several twists of the screw, and the plate added an uncomfortable amount of pressure to your thumb. A few twists later, and your arm tensed in the expectation of your bone-shattering. 

When the pain was concentrated slowly and on small appendages, Mother always appeared more satisfied. Her preferred method was originally peeling fingernails, but after a few years of punishment, your body grew accustomed. The reactions flattened and therefore so did your birther’s excitement. Truthfully, everything hurts just a little less than previously. The stimulation was still there, and your brain still received the message, but the pain of last time makes this more bearable. 

The thin bone finally gave in with a jolt of searing pain. You muffled a wail, and instead fed the next difference from your flaky lips. This was repeated again and again on your digits, much like the last method. The ropes that held you strained and weakened while your numbers dwindled. 

At six, you had no air remaining to sustain your screams. Instead, your will escaped in hot, staccato breaths. Your submission was always the end, and every rebellion was squashed under the woman’s heavy, overbearing boot. You would always be her tool, her pawn, fueling her with screams of excruciation. It was an endless and inescapable loop that would eventually conclude with your demise. The festering unease was always there, growing steadily, but it would never be allowed to show. You needed to gain the strength to free yourself. To cut the loop short. 

But sitting strapped into the chair with ten mangled fingers, it was all you could do to hope for a quick last breath. To join your brother and repent for your sins. To suffer silently in hell and finally find peace. 

You prayed for your death to be fast, and for it to be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm sorry this took so long;; I took a short vacation and unfortunately didn't have any time to write. This is definitely not my best writing, but it's also my first time writing torture lol 
> 
> It's important to note that (from what I'm planning) this will be the only explicit torture scenes. Again, I don't intend to romanticize this. While I do find it important in plot and character development as well as foundational support in the story, I know that this can be distressing for some viewers. The intention is to make the reader squirm a little, but not full-on uncomfortable. I find that there are a few fanfictions that use abuse as a means of getting pity from characters, but this scene will have a real impact on the story. 
> 
> Side note, I tried to portray the MC in a certain light, but I'm not completely sure if that really came through in my writing. If you guys have any questions, feel free to comment! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> 4167 words


	12. 𝘚𝘸𝘢𝘱

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to attend this meeting today.” 

The furry white creature picked up a stack of papers from the table, prompting the others to do the same. Among the table was a mix of heroics and management teachers, including Eraserhead, Vlad King, Cementoss, and Midnight, along with others. It was the early morning following the Sports Festival, and dew still clung to blades of grass while birds chirped their morning songs. All of the teachers had a thick lining of sleep along their eyes, the only exception being the principal. 

“I’m sure you all are well aware of why you were called here. This meeting pertains to the 1-K student, whose last name was redacted. As she has shown interest in switching to the heroics course and has placed in the top-eight of the first-year stage, she will be moved to either Class A or B. This, however, is up for debate, and she may stay in the management course with good reason.” 

Principal Nezu shuffled through his stack of stark white pages and pulled out a single sheet. On the lonesome page had your profile, detailing your basic medical outline, quirk specifications, and a condensed transcript. 

All the information was fabricated; bent and conjured in a light that makes you cleaner than a saint, not that the staff knew. You left your first name as is, and kept your surname redacted after careful consideration. The name you go by is nothing more than a nickname--legally, you have no name outside of your familial ties.

Eraserhead closed his eyes but refrained from nodding off. Sighing, he reached for the same page in his stack of papers and scanned over the words. Finding no abnormalities, he spoke. “Right, well. I have no objections. She placed well, has good grades, and wants to be a hero. Generally speaking, she’s the perfect candidate for the course. It’s almost suspicious how clean her record is.”

Mumbled agreements plucked through the room. The homeroom teacher of Class 1-K remarked how shy and amiable you were, with other teachers you had doing the same. Many around the table realized they hadn’t talked to you much outside of necessity. 

“Hound Dog, what were your interactions with her like?” Power Loader asked, slumped lazily in his chair. The dog-esque man perked up.

“She’s quite shy, but her desire for heroism shines through her withdrawn nature. She chose the management course to stay on the sidelines of the business, but the other students inspired her to do more,” Inui recited, an approving undertone to his low voice. The management educators bobbed their heads to the bolstering of their claims. 

The Blood Hero hummed. “Now that you say that, Hound Dog, I think it’s some of my kids that are inspiring her. I overheard some conversations about a stuttering business course student. She sounds like a great fit for the curriculum, and her transition would be smooth.” 

“So, the unanimous decision is that she will be moved?” Nezu asks, followed by a chorus of “yes”s. 

“Well, that was easy,” Nezu commented, his beady eyes gleamed in the artificial lighting. “Now, we can move on to which hero student we will be moving out.” The room stilled at the hard question, two in particular stiffened significantly more than the rest. A blanket of tension befell the room, thickening the air.

Vlad King spoke up once again. “I think all of my students are doing exceptionally well. We might not’ve gotten the added boost like Eraserhead’s kids, but it’d be a waste to send one of mine out now.” 

Those around the table were shocked at Vlad’s blunt refusal to expel one of his own but could understand where he was coming from. With 1-A getting the head start, 1-B was pushed out of the spotlight right off the bat. It would be like adding salt to the would if one of them got expelled on top of that.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Thirteen begins, respectfully. “But wouldn’t it be more customary to move her into Class B, rather than Class A?” Their signature distorted voice hung in the air uncomfortably, making each teacher think carefully.

Traditionally, students with higher grades are placed in a higher letter class. The cream of the crop in A, the second-best in B, and so on. The problem in Yuuei is both their non-conforming system, as well as their multiple majors. It’s generally known that Yuuei pushes the boundaries more than the average run-of-the-mill school, and it is also known that Yuuei provides four departments: heroics, general studies, support, and business. With this, each department gets two to three classes and doesn’t overlap letters. As such, Class A may be the best, but Class C isn’t inherently worse as it’s a different department. 

The Eraser Hero explained this in a monotone drawl. “Even without the explanation, my class isn’t necessarily better than Vlad’s, and vice versa. The hero classes aren’t as distinguished by skill as the others because of the conditional entrance exams.” 

“Then, Eraserhead, do you have any in mind?” The white bear-mouse asked, completely neutral. All eyes sharpened focus on the tired and scruffy male. Scratching his stubble, Eraserhead hummed lowly in thought.

“Not particularly, but I’m not as partial to them as Vlad King.” Aizawa began. Midnight covertly grinned, seeing past the male’s feigned aloofness. It was no secret that the eraser hero cared deeply for his students, no matter how little he showed it. 

_‘Originally, my pick would be Midoriya.’_ Eraserhead’s eyebrows twitched ever-so-slightly in puzzlement. _‘He started off at rock bottom and made the same mistakes again and again, but something tells me he’s on track to improve the most over internships. My next thought would be Mineta, who scored second-to-last on the quirk apprehension test, but he’s adequately strong. His quirk doesn’t allow for much room to grow, but he has decent intellect and assessment to make up for it.’_

In order to break the silence and to let Eraserhead think, the teachers struck up unfocused idle chatter while they looked through the papers. Finally, Eraserhead came up with a name.

“Koda Koji.” 

Yells of surprise erupted from the room. “But isn't he a fairly average student? Wouldn’t you be better off expelling Hagakure or Mineta?” Cementoss questioned. 

“As it stands, he’s the most apprehensive about throwing himself into hero work. His anxiousness would be his downfall in a real fight. Unlike the girl, he shows little resolve and determination that’s crucial to a hero. I presume he’s able to take the vacant spot in the business course or apply for general studies. This will allow him time to grow as a student and hero, and by their second year he can fight for his spot back.”

Those who were originally aghast at Aizawa’s pick could now see where the noiret was coming from. Jaws settled back to their original placings and shoulders relaxed. No more objections followed, and the group consensus was made.

“Then it’s settled! Yeah! Hey, wanna get food after this?” Present Mic jumped from his seat, pumping his arms. Some management teachers nodded and stomachs rumbled across the dreary room. 

The principal jumped onto the table and held his hands behind his back. “This concludes the meeting! All heroic students were informed of the possibility of expulsion, so we’ll have to inform Koda’s parents later today. The transfer will happen the day after tomorrow! Enjoy your break, everyone!” Nezu waved as the teachers bowed and left to get food. Meanwhile, you were strapped to a chair and sound asleep, unaware of the news.

* * *

The morning after the last day of break, you were wholly subdued. Every cell in your being had to submit to Mother after two days and one night of torture. Sleep came in bursts but never lasted for long. Rc suppressants were fed into your body like an endless stream, and the neck device you wore was never taken off. By sleeping, you cherry-picked one part of your neck to sacrifice. The witch made sure your escape never exceeded one hour, and you were effectively deprived of both rest and humanity. 

The pain clung to the marrow in your bones with barbed teeth and it _stuck_. The ache never left your body, hanging with its weight drifting ever-so precariously. Every time you closed your eyes, your body remembered each crack of a whip, slash of a knife, twist of a screw. You were severely dehydrated, and your eyes felt swollen with electric pain coursing through them. Every movement of your body stuttered, shaking your arms and twitching your legs. 

The physical remnants of the hours you suffered weren’t evident. No scars traced your ribcage, no bruising encased your fingers. It all could be chalked up to a fever dream. The dark side of accelerated rejuvenation was that no one would believe you if you said you were strapped to a chair and filleted for dinner. The bite marks where your mother ripped out parts of your flesh to consume bubbled and smoothed, leaving no proof it happened. You would always be in perfect condition to the day you die, and maybe it was better that way. You could survive that way.

As you combed your snowy locks, your sullen and glassy eyes raked your form. Your hair was bleached from a mixture of Rc suppressants and Marie Antionette syndrome. A ghostly complexion clashed with the saturation under your eyes, and your lips appeared to be falling apart in need of some lip balm. A shower did you no better to liven yourself up, but it did remove the browning red from your body. Silently, you cursed yourself for not having the time to color your hair. Dye lined your shelves, on the ready like soldiers on standby; this wasn’t unheard of for you.

Creeping down to the entrance door, the demon that haunted you stood. 

“A message was sent from Yuuei.” You stilled, hoping, praying, for good news. Your limbs shook more, and your balance was teetering. Air piled into your lungs until you turned blue.

“You’re in the hero course, starting from today. Your teacher is that underground hero, Eraserhead. Find some new recruits and people to look out for. Most importantly, wait for instructions from the League. Don’t cause suspicion.” Mother was back into her business mood and almost dissociated from any memory of what had happened. She was easier this way, more predictable.

Thankfully, she said nothing more as you pulled on your backpack, and even gave you a stack of filled out paperwork, likely those that Nezu required. This, however, was not received with open arms, but you kept yourself from slapping the paper away. While the forms were essential, you still loathed the idea of her helping you. You shoved the finished papers into your backpack, and with hurried steps, you walked out the door. 

It was raining. The droplets fell and soaked your skin until you were sure you could wring it out. Despite this, you scraped up your remaining pride and didn’t go back inside. You couldn’t face her again just for an umbrella. Seeing as you already took the papers, your mother didn’t need her ego to be any more bloated than it already was. 

Making do with what you had, your backpack was brought over your sunken face and you ran to Tatooin Station. Each pounding step you took made you feel lighter and lighter as you were brought farther and farther from home. The weight in your heart stayed, though, and kept you grounded to the fact that you would ultimately come back.

At one point you teetered, veering too far on one side of your right foot. As you tripped, you grunted in exasperation. Your bag seemed to swell, and your weak arms crumbled under the weight of your backpack. You caught yourself just above the ground, but your schoolwork wasn’t so lucky. The canvas sack laid in a puddle, getting more and more drenched by the second. 

_‘Today is not my day.’_ You thought as you shook the bag from its excess water. Your eyes reddened with tears, but you held them back with the sturdiest mental dam you could muster. Once again placing the bag over your head, you jogged at a steadier pace. Your arms recovered from their momentary weakness, but you knew that you wouldn’t be at your best today. 

The train ride was unpleasant, to say the least. Not only were you sandwiched in the crowd, but someone recognized you, despite your hair change and lack of blindfold. While you were wearing Yuuei’s uniform, you didn’t think anyone would pay attention, especially with how stuffed the train was. Evidently, you seriously underestimated hero fans. 

After you were first discovered, it was as if the fuse was lit. A domino effect transpired, and soon the entire car was wishing you well. The overwhelming praise juxtaposed the berating ache you were enslaved to. Like a fish out of water, you bumbled and eventually thanked the altruistic people, despite the discomfort you felt. 

Getting into Yuuei was no walk in the park, either. When you got off the bullet train and away from the station, you observed the rain hadn’t let up. If anything, the water had started to come down harder with more vehemence. The subtle drying you experienced while on the train was wiped out in seconds. With no coverage, you had no choice but to book it and hope for the best. Perhaps looking like a wet dog wasn’t the best first impression on your new class, but you’d have to make do. 

“Hey!” A shout sounded out in the distance. Assuming the cry had nothing to do with you, you continued running with your backpack over your head. You’d be astounded if all your papers weren’t turned into pulp by now.

“Hey!” Clearer this time, a masculine voice called. Even with the harsh splashing of rain on concrete, the voice was clear. Based on your trained hearing, you estimated about ten meters between you. You turned around reluctantly, deciding to take a look. Being stationary wasn’t ideal in this weather, but it was better than getting called at.

A male with an average height caught up to you, holding a large black umbrella. His only discernible feature was his red hair. 

_‘Have I. . . Seen him before?’_ Your brain was foggy. All events directly before returning home were washy, much like words on a soggy paper (you dearly hoped that wasn’t the case with your paperwork). As the boy came closer, his features sharpened in your mind. 

“Kiri. . . Shima?” You mumbled half-expecting for your guess to be wrong. 

The redhead smiled wearily with prominent sharp teeth. “You know my name?” He asked, a little flustered. You introduced yourself and explained your hair change until it clicked. 

“Whoa, you dyed your hair too? That’s so manly! I didn’t even recognize you!” Kirishima chuckled, and you twitched a smile in return, cursing the snowy color. After a moment of processing, the shark-toothed boy abruptly jolted and raised his umbrella over the both of you. “Oh! Uhh, I was just thinking that you didn’t have an umbrella, and mine’s pretty big. . .”

Your heart squeezed one second, but then it was gone. “Thanks,” You answered. Fleeting emotions aside, your walk under a shared umbrella with Kirishima was fine. He did most of the talking, while you provided him with small smiles and fake laughs. It would be hard to act today, but you’ve done it under the same conditions before. You covered the unsteadiness of your limbs with lukewarm excuses, claiming nervousness. The boy showed no suspicion, though, and carried on with his animated storytelling.

Your pace matched with Kirishima’s, and the two of you made it to the entrance with time to spare. The redhead smiled widely and collapsed his umbrella. The two of you parted ways there, as your lockers were in different sections. Wringing out your hair, you gathered your things at your locker. Your hero course paperwork was limp, but legible, to your relief. Once everything was in order, you shut the metal door and ambulated to your new class. 

During this time, your mental state festered. Replays of nights previous clung to your eyelids, playing whenever you blinked. While you were an expert at compartmentalizing, it took time to sort and organize your thoughts into something functional. You were grasping at straws, trying to do a day’s worth of rumination in minutes. Typically after a session with Mother, you were allowed a day or two off in your room. This time, however, she stretched your limits, torturing you to the last minute. It wasn’t like you could take the day off, either--it was your first day in your new class. It was a pivotal point in your extensive mission.

On your way to Class 1-A, you ran into Eraserhead. He regarded you tiredly, with drooping eyes that rivaled your own. 

“I see you dyed your hair.” He remarked, a gravel-like texture in his tone. “I’m your new homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa.”

 _‘I can’t blame them for noticing, but it’s seriously annoying.’_ You wanted to rip out your hair in clumps, but then they’d probably comment on you being bald. Giving the man a once-over, you held back a scowl. 

Eyes lingering on Aizawa’s scarf, you replied. “Yes, thank you for accepting me into your class, Aizawa-sensei. Please take care of me.” You bowed. The shaggy male simply stared at you with equally dissecting eyes. “I have the paperwork necessary for my transfer.” Handing over the wrinkled pages, the man looked less than impressed.

“Right, well, I’ll introduce you to the class, just give me a second.” You followed Eraserhead to the door. When the bell rang, the eraser hero sauntered in and gave a gruff “morning”. You stayed outside, not sure if he wanted you to go in with him or not.

“Good to see your bandages off, Aizawa-sensei.” A nasal voice commented. 

“The old lady’s treatment was excessive. But never mind that, today we’ve got hero informatics class. And a special one at that. But first, there’s an announcement.” Aizawa glances in your direction, and you take it as your cue to come out. Walking in the room, you could feel eyes scrutinizing your form. “We have a new addition to the class. She will be replacing Koda Koji starting today.” 

Mixed comments sounded around the room. Koda was a rather quiet person, but most were sad to see him go. Others, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. You were of the latter.

You gave a quick introduction followed by a bow. Many of the students already knew you from your visits or your adequate displays at the Sports Festival. The seated kids mumbled amongst themselves on topics from your hair to your quirk. Some even commented on your lack of a last name. 

“You will be sitting there.” Sensei pointed at an empty seat between Iida and Tokoyami. You thanked him and made an awkward trek to the chair. Sitting down, you crossed your legs tightly in discomfort.

 _‘I don’t like the way these children are eyeing me.’_ Distaste settled on your tongue as you caught multiple optics flickering to your desk. You pretended not to notice, but it bothered you all the same. Another thing that irked you was a particularly loud heartbeat in the room. Usually, you wouldn’t hear heartbeats without close attention, but this one sounded out like a bass drum.

 _‘Too bad I can’t just turn it off for them,”_ You sighed, rubbing your temples. Your arms twitched and shook, only with less vigor than earlier.

“Code names. Today, you’ll be coming up with hero aliases.” Eraserhead announced. The class shot up in cheers, all but you. 

“We’re gonna do something exciting!!” 

The teacher glared, the ends of his inky hair upturned. His eyes flashed a fearsome red, calming the class from its chatters. “But first, concerning the pro draft picks I mentioned the other day. The drafts begin in earnest in the second and third years, after students have gained experience and can become immediate assets to the pros. In other words, for them to extend offers to first years like you shows that they are interested in your future potential. These offers are often canceled if the interest dies down by graduation.”

To your left, the small purple pervert slammed his fist on his desk. “Stupid adults and their whims!”

“So we’ll have to prove ourselves once we get picked, huh?” Invisigirl asked.

“Yes. Now, here’re the complete draft pick numbers.” The man clicks a button and the board lights up with a bar graph. 

**CLASS A DRAFT PICK TOTALS**

**TODOROKI ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 4,123**

**BAKUGOU ------------------------------------------------------------------- 3,556**

**TOKOYAMI --------- 360**

[name] -------- 329 

**IIDA ------- 301**

**KAMINARI ------ 272**

**YAOYOROZU ---- 108**

**KIRISHIMA --- 68**

**URARAKA -- 20**

**SERO - 14**

“There’s typically more of a spread,” Eraserhead explains. “But our top two stole most of the spotlight.” Outcries of displeasure were shouted and clearly heard from across the room. The loudest squabble was about how the silver medalist attained the most nominations. 

_‘Ah, the curse of the Todorokis,’_ You relished. Upon studying the board closer, you were bewildered to see yourself on the board. With your name having a lesser opacity, it was easy to miss at first glance. _‘It must be because I’m not doing any internships.’_

After everyone got a good look at the screen, Aizawa went on a spiel about the importance of internships and how everyone would get one--drafted or not. “It's true that you all have already experienced more than most, but seeing the pros in action and taking part yourselves will still be worthwhile training.”

“That’s where our hero names come in!” A booming voice cheers. Uraraka then comments about how fun things are getting. Alternately, you were becoming bored out of your mind. To think you missed a day’s worth of rest for _this._

“They’re only tentative, but you still want to pick something appropriate-”

“Or else you’ll know true hell!!”

A middle-aged crime-fighting dominatrix, also known as Midnight, strutted into the room. Flashing her revealing outfit with her arms above her head, you caught some pink dusting faces around the room.

“The name you pick now may be what the world ends up calling you. That’s happened to plenty of pros out there!!”

The two teachers educated the class on how a hero's name should reflect the image of the hero or something like that. Whiteboards and markers were passed down the columns of desks, and you stare blankly at yours while the others present. Names like “Can’t Stop Twinkling”, “Froppy”, “Red Riot”, and others didn’t suit you very well. For obvious reasons, you couldn’t use your usual alias, Flawless, in a setting like this. In your delay, the title of “tentacle hero” was taken, not that you really minded.

Your attention piqued when you saw a brooding brother of Ingenium walk to the podium. “Tenya” splays jaggedly across the white of the board. Closing his eyes downward, the boy looked as if he was struggling to calm himself down.

Curiosity aside, you were one of the last people to showcase your name. 

_‘Ugh, I should really just write down my first name as the other slackers did.’_ You tapped the marker on your desk absentmindedly, until you opened the cap and scribbled your name. Looking down at the black marks, you sighed. _‘It’s not the smartest move to have my first name plastered everywhere, but. . .’_ Tapping the marker once more, you glared down. 

_‘It just doesn’t feel right.’_

Erasing your name, you start fresh. Midnight gets more and more impatient, as it was just you and Bakugou left to present. Out of your subconscious, you write ‘Flawless’ but quickly rubbed out the word. Your lip curled in disgruntlement.

In haste, you scribbled something and walked to the front. The board slammed on the podium, startling some of the class. 

“Eight.” You announce, adding some waver to your execution.

“Eight?” Midnight asked, tapping her plush bottom lip. “Why did you choose that?”

You hummed in thought. “U-uh, well, my quirk, tentacle, is based on an octopus or something, right? And an octopus has eight tentacles. I hope that someday the two tentacles I can conjure can become eight.” 

Closing your eyes and smiling gracefully, you internally sweatdropped. _‘I actually made that up on the spot. I chose eight because it had a lot of letters in common with ‘fight’. Plus, Flawless has eight letters.’_

“Ah! I see. So it’s like a goal of sorts?” Midnight asks politely, to which you nod. “I like it! And when you flip an eight on its side, it looks like the infinity sign! An inspiring hero name!”

 _‘Thanks for the added explanation,’_ You thought as you stepped back to your desk. Bakugou gave one last shot at coming up with a hero name but to no avail. Nevertheless, “Lord Explosion Murder” did have its own charm. 

The topic switched to the upcoming internships, and Aizawa once again took the lead. 

“Your internships start in a week. For this all-important decision, I’ll be handing out personalized lists to those who were drafted. You may choose from those who scouted you.” Zoning out, you assumed you had the gist of it. After all, you weren’t even participating in the internships. 

The lists were handed out to the few people that got scouted, you included. Taking a brief look at the first page of seven, you scanned through the agencies. 

“Submit your choices by this coming weekend,” Eraserhead comments, before making his way to the door. Leisurely, the man looks directly at you and calls out your name. 

“Yes sir?” You answered.

“If you don’t turn in your choice, I’ll assume you’ve opted out. I don’t recommend you do, but even if you don’t intern, you’ll still have to do work.” 

Nodding, you returned back to reviewing your offers. 

_‘Shittykawa Hero Agency, Toilet-Bound Hero Agency, Death the Kid OFFICE, Hyuuga Agency. . . All of these are boring. Fuck, I haven’t even heard of half of them.’_ You huff in annoyance. You already weren’t planning on interning, but these b-list agencies only confirmed it. Flipping the page with a twitching hand, you languidly read over the list.

Finally, you found something worth noting. _‘Endeavor Hero Agency, huh? What in the world does that fucker want?’_

Your mind assembled memories of the Sports Festival. The flame hero’s watchful eyes shone intently in your memory, almost _knowing_.

_‘Don’t tell me. . .’_

Teeth gritting together, you apparently had some rethinking to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I finally got the chapter out, lol. I don't understand how some authors can write 10,000+ words a day OTL. I guess it doesn't help that I only write when nobody's home/at night ^^;; Still, props to the superhuman fanfic writers~ Y'all are too good to be true
> 
> Almost to the fated meeting between Stain and the kids! I'm so excited for the climax of this arc, I have so much planned from like months ago haha (hopefully that makes the chapter come out faster)
> 
> On another note, I'm getting busier with plans and the like, so the every-other-week update schedule may be due to stay TT I'm sorry guys--I don't really like it either. I wish I could update more often, but the balance between fanfic and social life must be cared for~ Also, I physically can't write a chapter under 4K words without it feeling incomplete now, so there's that
> 
> Question~! What do y'all think of the hero name? Tbh I came up with it on the spot, too, but I think number/letter names are pretty cool sounding. If you guys don't like it though, please suggest something else! I still need a '_____ hero:' thing, since tentacle hero is taken (Also, what did you think about the hero agencies? I'm a sucker for easter eggs about different animes lolol)
> 
> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> 4746 words


	13. 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outfit reference that I'm pretty neutral about haha;;; Feel free to sub in your own hair and skin color! I tried to make them midtone so it's easy to do so (Forgive me if it's not your hair texture)

The following weekend, you didn’t turn in a slip of paper. As tempting as it was, Endeavor wasn’t worth pursuing a side quest (much to your disappointment). Perhaps this could play as a blow in itself: a rejection to the hand held out to you. Regardless of his intentions, you had things to do. 

In the days before the internships, you were bored out of your mind. Apparently, the heroics classes were conditioning-focused unless otherwise specified. Having trained all your life, even the business course was more challenging. At least then you got a proper workout, albeit for the mind. 

Lunches continued as per usual. You still stuck to 1-B in the cafeteria, silently gaining intel while acting a part. Your new class did extend their heroic hands to sit with you, but you politely declined in hopes to gather equal information on both classes. 

Additionally, your lunch partners, namely Kendo, grew increasingly worried at your lack of appetite. Highlighting your increased training as a reason to eat more, you couldn’t refuse due to Lunch Rush’s ridiculously low prices. All of your excuses ran dry, and food was practically forced down your throat. Your friends were happy, but your stomach wasn’t. A quick bathroom break followed your food binge, and you spent a good ten minutes retching glue-like rice and sour, foul-tasting fish. 

Overall, your transition was bland and rather uneventful. The only notable part of your time was that you hadn’t seen your mother since the morning after your “session”. You tensed more and more the longer she’s gone. You hoped she up and left and was gone for good, but you know better than that. Her disappearance made you on edge, and that was probably her goal.

Exhaling your stress, you perfected your façade . Class 1-A gathered in Tatooin Station to head to their respective agencies. You, on the other hand, were required to come so you could see your peers off and talk to Aizawa. 

The well-lit station strained your eyes and made spots swim across your vision. You rubbed each eye with your palm, which lessened the discoloration of the scene. Some citizens noticed the uniforms and pointed at your group, while others paid no mind.

“You’ve got your costumes, right?” The underground hero asked. You held your suitcase a little tighter to your body, feeling the cool metal through your button-up. “Wearing them in public is strictly prohibited, but don’t drop them.” 

“Yessir!” Pinky cheered, extending her suitcase above her head in excitement. 

Eraserhead scolded her. “All of you be on your best behavior! Now go.”

The class chatted amongst themselves as you strolled up to Aizawa. The teacher addressed you in his usual monotone.

“It was out of my hands, but I still think your internship should’ve been required.” He stated irritation laced his tone. “Nevertheless, I have your training schedule. Don’t start thinking you took the easy way out, because this is harder than any internship would’ve been.”

You hid your own agitation deep in your eye sockets, not allowing the emotion to surface.

 _‘He probably thinks I chose not to intern to get out of working hard.’_ You observed.

“I-I understand, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Right, not only that, but you’ll have to try on your hero costume sometime during the week. Seeing as you joined late, this is only your trial design. Everyone else’s costumes have been modified at least once or twice. You’ll have to pick out what you do and don’t like about yours and send it in so the support department can start on a new one.” 

You nodded and took the papers from the man’s slender fingers. Flipping through the pages, you noticed the training regiment was much more strenuous than the heroics classes. Naturally, you should be able to complete the tasks, but it might be more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Having everything squared away, you began the trek back to your house. This week, you had today off and then duties with the League from thereon. Dealing with Shigaraki was always a handful, but you couldn’t back out now. Judging by his grand plans, you should be free from this mission soon. 

_‘Thank fuck. I’m so tired of a block of cement teaching me about modern literature. It feels strangely degrading.’_

Before you hopped onto your train, you caught Engine Legs’s eye. His aura was darker than a hero extra’s should be. Iida’s rectangular eyes held a sharpness that didn’t suit his face. You recall students’ pity directed toward the blue-haired male, something about his brother.

 _‘Maybe I’ll look into Ingenium.’_ You think, unconsciously grabbing your phone. Stepping on the bullet train, you find that few people were taking the same train as you. In particular, a certain explosive sea urchin boarded your train. With the little class meeting the both of you attended, you were the last to board, sitting you two together.

Analyzing his appearance, he had a signature grimace that never seemed to leave. Baggy pants, a disheveled button-up, and unruly hair--he had ‘delinquent’ written all over him with red ink. The only bonding you ever had with him was your eavesdropping endeavor. Besides that, you’ve never interacted with Bakugou since.

You must’ve been staring a little too obvious because the boy’s red optics shifted from his phone to your form.

“What the fuck do you want?” He spits. 

You fake flinch, imitating bashfulness. “I-uh. W-who are you interning w-with?” Your hands twist, adding to the act.

Blondie scoffed and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have to tell a fucking extra. I don’t trust you, anyway, shitstack. Your whole vibe is off.” 

Internally humming, you congratulated his intuition in your head. _‘It appears there is a brain in that inflated head of his. The kid has good instincts.’_

“I-I don’t know what I did to make you think that way, Bakugou-san, but I’m sorry if I did anything wrong. I just thought we should get along as classmates.” You squirmed in your seat and genuinely wondered if there was anything that tipped him off.

The irritable boy didn’t bother answering you and left the conversation there. It didn’t really bother you anyway--there was a reason you preferred covert assassination missions rather than infiltration and information extraction. You weren’t built for conversation. This, coupled with your inability to pick up on some social norms, was the reason your interactions turned rather awkward. With no way to turn the tides, you sucked it up and lived with it.

Distracting yourself from Explodo-Kills’s outward prudence towards you, you made use of your smartphone. Typing the name ‘Ingenium’ in the search engine, hundreds of articles popped up. Tapping on the first one, the title made your eyes moderately widen.

**‘Pro hero, Ingenium, is rendered paraplegic by Hero Killer’**

_‘Eh, so this is why Specs has been so strange lately. This makes him Stain’s. . . 24th injured. Someone’s been getting busy.’_ The site listed some publicly known things about Stain, as well as a brief statement from Ingenium’s agency. When you exited out of the page, your mind wandered to the League and their plans. _‘I should ask Shigs about how recruitment is going.’_

The stifling atmosphere between Bakugou and you remained until it was your stop. The air was still thick when it entered your lungs. Picking up your backpack, you bid Blasty a hasty yet polite goodbye. His head didn’t even turn in your direction, and the only affirmation that he heard you was a soft scoff.

Walking to your house from your station was a hazy existence. Your mind ran 1000 miles a minute, simultaneously balancing domestic thoughts with work. Exploring the possibility that Mother was just out on a mission while dreaming about cable knit sweaters and good coffee. There was a reason you don’t lose focus often or let your thoughts run wild. You didn’t even notice the witch’s shoes by the door when you entered your manor. When you pressed the on-button of your coffee grinder, the devil incarnate reared her ugly face. 

“Miss me?” She asked, stalking into the room as if hunting for prey. Her body was clothed with dark colors, a clear sign that she was on a mission. Her sharp eyes clawed at your form, daring you to answer. 

Meeting her stare, you bit back a caustic “no”. Instead, you asked about her whereabouts the past several days. 

“Just visiting the others of the Jiburu. We just absorbed another branch. Ever since Endeavor decided to lead a ghoul genocide in Japan, we barely have enough members to get by.” Mother scoffed, her distaste for the flame hero written all over her face. You nodded, knowing all of the details already. 

Subsections of the Koukai clan would separate and absorb each other when the populations fluctuate too drastically. Without enough members, the subdivision wouldn’t have enough manpower. Alternatively, with too many members, it can be difficult to keep tabs on everyone, and new additions wouldn’t be taught the strict regulations and ongoings of the clan.

Most lone-wolf ghouls were part of a brimming subdivision and were left unchecked. This led to them being independently acting and thereby dangerous to the clan. It’s important to have all autonomous branches keep track of their members while also coming together under one last name.

“I have found your partner as well. He was a member of the branch we absorbed.” The woman had a bored expression coupled with a systematic voice. You nodded to this as well.

Arranged marriages were commonplace within the clan. It wasn’t as if people didn’t find love, it just wasn’t as prioritized. You had no grounds to oppose your mother’s coupling, as you couldn’t fathom finding love in a person. This way, your clan could benefit from growing numbers.

Technically, your betrothed would be your very distant cousin, but that too was standard. Your kin has been around for so many generations that it doesn’t matter too much in terms of the cons of inbreeding. Additionally, bearing children is far easier with two ghouls, rather than a ghoul and a human.

“His name is Akio. Nineteen, _ukaku_ , black hair, yellow eyes, and he’s plenty strong. You have a date today at two. His father already agreed to this.”

“I look forward to meeting him.” Your mother didn’t need or want your approval, but you thought it best to stay on her good graces for the time being. After all, she had the ability to choose your life partner.

 _‘I just hope he’s tolerable,’_ You sighed. _‘What should I do if he’s like Bakugou?’_ Smiling slightly, you entertained the thought for a while. 

It was still pretty early in the day, around ten, so you had some time before your date. You didn’t want to bother preparing for your rendezvous (you’ll be getting married, anyway, so what’s the point of impressing him?). You’ve never dated someone before, so you wouldn’t know where to start in the first place. 

Trying to not think about it too much, you picked up your coffee making back up. Finishing grinding the beans, you boiled some water, letting it cool a degree or two. Meanwhile, you set up your drip pot with the grinds, humming an indistinct tune. Finally, you steadily poured the hot water over the grinds and let the beverage steep. The end product was warming and tickled your nose with a mouth-watering aroma. 

Ambling to your estate’s rock garden, you sat on a flat rock and took small sips of your beloved drink. The ceramic was warm to the touch and its smooth surface pressed against your lips like a kiss with every gulp. As you breathed deeply, you collected your thoughts while you watched the clouds. 

Before long, your mug was empty and your legs began to cramp. You had spent around half of an hour outside, and you figured it’d be around sixty minutes of travel time, giving you two and a half hours to rest and get ready.

 _‘Maybe I’ll take a bath.’_

You shuffled inside and placed your mug in the dishwasher. Padding up the stairs to your bathroom, you took out a fresh towel for when you finished. As you looked through your cabinets for your special occasion skincare, you stumbled across your copious amounts of hair dye. 

_‘I have over two hours, and usually, it only takes an hour to color my hair. . . If I let the dye sit while I’m in the bath, it’s like killing two birds with one stone.’_ You weighed the pros and cons while hovering over the box dye. You didn’t particularly wish to meet your future husband with whitened hair due to a traumatic event, so in the end, you decided to bite the bullet.

With experienced fingers, you applied the natural-colored pigment onto your chalky strands. When you finished evenly distributing the color, you tied it up while drawing a bath. The high-pressured water rumbled in the bathtub, supplying adequate background noise for your cleanup. 

Softly singing a song you heard back in 2010, you doused the water with bubble bath solution and then lined up various facial products. At last, you stepped into the steaming water, letting out a sigh when the liquid lapped at your stiff body. Settling down into the warm embrace of the bath, you closed your eyes in content. Maybe you could make this peaceful moment last. 

As the media so annoyingly drilled into everyone’s head, _nothing lasts forever_. The timer on your phone shrieked for you to wash out your hair dye, and the bubbles simmered down into a fine foam layer. Multiple one-use facial products laid discarded on the worn bath rug. 

You stood up in the now-lukewarm water and closed the shower curtain in a fluid motion. Simultaneously, you drained the water and rinsed your hair. It took impatient minutes for the water to run clear. When it did, you wrung out your darkened locks and wrapped your clean towel around your prune-like body.

Time whittled down like a gambler’s financial balance. Once you were thoroughly dried off, your rough hands slathered some expensive lotion over your skin. After brushing your hair, you trodded to your room. When your feet met a familiar beaten tatami mat, your towel dropped. Unblemished skin ran hills over your skeleton, faultless as if it held no history. 

Undergarments came first, and unfortunately, that was the easy part. Your narrowed eyes scraped over your minuscule amount of choices. 

As an assassin that sees the sun less than a vampire, you didn’t have much need for a variety of attire. Your closet consisted of leisurewear, athletic clothing, dark undercover attire, and what you liked to call “costumes”, aka outfits bought for assimilation missions. If only Mother told you of this in advance; you could have gone shopping. 

This being said, there was one thing you didn’t lack, and that was shoes. The majority of your salary went unused, but on a rainy day, you liked to splurge on designer footwear. There was no particular reason why. You weren’t very good at picking out fashionable outfits, but the easy part was always shoes. 

_‘I should probably start expanding my closet.’_

After some digging, you found a pair of passable black jeans. Pulling them on, they were a bit tight around the hips but otherwise wearable. For a top, you went with a dusty pink blouse. You bought the shirt for a seduction mission a year back, but the setting switched from a fancy restaurant to a nightclub. You couldn’t bring yourself to return the top, so you shoved it into a basket in the back of your closet. The silky material begged to be ironed but to be honest, you couldn’t really care less. 

Slipping on a black belt (and probably missing a loop or two) along with a pair of classic ebony pumps, you were pretty much set in the outfit department. The blouse made you far too overdressed for what was likely going to happen, but it was either that or a sports bra. You genuinely didn’t understand the concept of makeup, so you laid that thought to rest. 

_‘Perhaps some jewelry? Or is that too much?’_ You told yourself you wouldn’t think too deeply about appearances, but somehow you ended up in the rabbit hole anyway. You prayed to some greater being that your counterpart is at least trying half as hard. 

Diamond studs were all you could bring yourself to do. Objectively speaking, it wasn’t a bad ensemble. It probably would’ve looked better if the blouse didn’t look like a used tissue, but that's beside the point. 

At this stage, your brain was smoking from overexertion. Each synapse battered and fried until your skull held a country fair and no thoughts. Checking your phone, it was a little before twelve. You decided to go down into the family room to wait for the witch to give you further details. 

After around fifteen minutes of waiting around, your mother walked in. Scanning you up and down, her eyebrows furrowed into an unflattering wrinkle. She paused upon viewing your hair but didn’t comment on it.

“What the hell are you wearing?” She snarled, and the crease on her face deepened. 

You scoffed nonchalantly. “Would you rather me be in sweatpants?” 

Tsking, she dropped the subject. “You’ll be meeting Akio and his father at their household. I will be going with you to ensure things run smoothly.” The woman’s eyes sharpened as if giving an unsaid threat. You heard it loud and clear. 

_‘Don’t fuck up.’_

“How long will it take for us to get there?” You question, picking at your nails. A fluff of lint nestled itself under your nail, and you had a hard time getting it out.

“Around an hour and twenty-five minutes by car. Although their branch was small, Akio’s father is still a very important figure. We must be on time, if not early.” 

For Mother to acknowledge somebody, be it their power, social standing, etcetera, they must be remarkable. Your father-in-law-to-be likely had a much higher social standing than your birther. Part of you wondered how she got him to sign off his son to a materialistic psycho and her daughter. There was a reason why you called her witch: she managed to procure opportunities (beneficial to you or not) out of a hat, despite her rank within your family’s hierarchy. Persuasion and manipulation were things she was extensively well-versed in, and she used her gift often.

With the hag’s insistence, the two of you left the house ten minutes early. Akio lived in a secluded estate in the country, so you took the car. It was one of the rare times you or your mother used the luxury car parked in your untouched garage. 

You were not excited whatsoever about being trapped in a small space with a demon for an hour and a half. Japan’s roads weren’t a walk in the park either, and both you and your mother were prone to road rage. 

_‘Fuck me with a koukaku.’_

You put on an impassive mask and planned on browsing the internet for the entirety of your ride. First checking the stock market and then assassination offers, you quickly ran out of things to do. 

A sudden jerk of the car tightened your seatbelt as inertia tugged you to the window. A loud honk nearly burst your eardrums, and when you investigated the matter, it turned out to be your car’s doing.

Your mother was generally a strict and apathetic person. This wasn’t always the case, as seen in her torture sessions where she becomes a complete nutjob. Not only that, but there are more subtle times when the visard cracks, such as in traffic, or when she receives an especially interesting mission. 

Luckily, no one was harmed. Of course, you would heal anyway, but it’s better to err on the side of caution. It appeared to be a minor mistake on the other driver’s part, and Mother just overreacted. The car was agonizingly silent afterward; no conversation, music, or anything. The vehicle continued its fluent motions without a hitch. 

_‘This is boring as fuck.’_ You thought, itching for some earbuds. _‘Why’d the meeting turn out to be at the country bumpkin’s place?’_

Tension coursed through your veins and you couldn’t sit still. Nothing new was on your phone, either, and it was only the first half of the ride. Candy Crush was your last resort, and even that could only do so much to satiate you. 

It wasn’t like you had friends to text--you gave Midoriya your number but he had yet to message you for an interview. As excited as the boy was to learn about your (fake) quirk, he seemed more nervous than thrilled to talk to an unfamiliar girl. It wasn’t as if the two of you clicked either; your whole façade makes it hard to feel out genuine friends. 

You spent the rest of the trip shallowly brooding about your lack of friends. Maybe just one would be nice. You weren’t completely unfamiliar in the realm of friendship--you had one good friend in your childhood years, but he’s long gone. Besides that, maybe Crusty could constitute as a friend, not that he made a very good one.

Akio’s manor was large and modern, unlike your more traditional home. Grand, extensive windows replaced walls, and the overall architecture had a contemporary feel. The driveway was lengthy, alluding to a large amount of property. 

It was no secret that most people in the Koukai clan had money. Assassins weren’t cheap; at the rate your family does it, you could own one of Yuuei’s mock cities with cash to spare. Naturally, some opt out to more ethical means, such as surviving on coffee and rationed suicide victims. Your future father-in-law didn’t appear to be one of those people. 

Stepping out of the car, you stretched to relieve your cramped legs. Sitting on the bullet train with Bakugou and then sitting in a car with Mother was just cruel and unusual punishment for your legs and for your soul. Satisfying pops played across your body as the witch looked on in impatience.

“I’d like to get to the front door in this lifetime.” She rudely interrupted your stretching routine. You scowled and finished rolling out your wrists. 

Approximately three beats after Mother knocked on the door, a stiff man appeared. He didn’t have the presence of a killer, nor the eyes, so you deemed him a butler of sorts. The robotic man opened the door wide for mother and you and signaled to take off your shoes. Lavish guest slippers lined the floor, awaiting your feet. 

Once Mother and you had the slippers on, the butler(?) spoke up. “If you are ready, I will take you to the meeting room.” You simply nodded, and the man began to lead you.

As you walked through the house, you weren’t fazed by the high ceilings or the extravagant furniture. Not only did you see many of the same things in your house, but wealth didn’t mean much to you. Making tens of millions of yen as a mere child, not many fiscal things made you bat an eyelash. 

At last, the man stopped and opened a door for the two of you. Inside, there was what looked to be a conference room: a round table with leather chairs encircling the perimeter. A burly, intimidating man with salt-and-pepper hair and green eyes sat in what appeared to be the head chair. Next to him was a man around your age with raven hair and lemon quartz eyes. A pretty and symmetrical face studied you with indifference, his brilliant amber eyes held no shine, despite the glaring artificial white that thickly coated the room.

You formally introduced yourselves before sitting across the father-son pair. No one appeared particularly delighted to be there, as if the marriage was a business transaction. 

Akio’s father, whose name you learned was Kazuo, regarded you first. “Yes, well. I’m glad to meet my son’s future partner. I have heard many things about your accomplishments as Flawless.” The man spoke. You politely thanked him, acting nice not unlike your time at Yuuei. 

“I have heard great things about Akio,” You stated, now looking at the tepid male. “I’m fortunate he’s very handsome.” Kazuo chuckled in a low rumble, obviously amused by your niceties. The golden-eyed boy; however, made no sign of reacting.

_‘Shit, don’t look too excited, now. It’s not like I’m in love or anything, so why can’t he mind his manners?’_

“I apologize for him. He recently. . . Cut ties with someone, so he’s quite slow as of late.”

The woman next to you laughed, brushing off the boy’s blatant rudeness. He hadn’t said a peep since you got there; you weren’t expecting much, but you at least thought the guy would be in the same boat as you. With his father’s last comment, though, you were starting to think differently. 

Mother finally starts small talk. “Akio, I heard you’re still improving your _ukaku_.” 

The noiret looked down with a dismissive tone in his voice. “It’s a part of my father’s training, not of my own doing.” The witch laughs to fill the room, but you catch sincerity in his tone.

 _‘Mother probably thought he was dismissing his own work, but I think he meant his father made him.’_ You wondered if either of the parents in the room picked up on it either. It was probable his dad did, but he didn’t appear to react. 

Cutting the awkward silence with a clearing of his throat, Kazuo jumped back into his cheery demeanor. “All right, then, we should probably get down to the nitty-gritty on the engagement.” 

Finally to the point, Mother and Kazuo did most of the work, finalizing the details. The summer after your eighteenth birthday, a small wedding would be held. Before then, there would be scheduled meetups between you and Akio. However lighthearted they appeared, you knew it would be uncomfortable exchanges based on the man’s disposition. 

Ghouls typically married earlier and bore children earlier, resembling older times. This was because of the shorter life expectancy as a result of food complications, Doves, and territorial exchanges between branches. Maybe one day your family could live comfortably like normal humans, but that was in the very distant future. 

When the gist of the arrangement was outlined, boredom had already taken over your body and mind. You were stiff and composed in your chair, but your fiancé was as lost in the clouds as ever.

 _‘This meeting played out to be more businesslike than I imagined. I believe we won’t be going on a proper date until a while from now, from what I could gather.’_ Restraining yourself, you kept a sigh from escaping your lips. Kazuo glanced at you, and a gleam in his eyes told you he could see right through you. It was an unnerving experience. 

“It appears that our children aren’t needed at present, why don’t you kids exchange contacts outside? Possibly get to know each other better?” It was as obvious as day that your boy counterpart had no interest in doing so, but the older man insisted. Kazuo’s outer appearance seemed playful and joking, but you could tell that underneath it all he was a cruel and cunning man. His small glares to his son that were filled with animosity, the way he led the conversation with your mother, it all made one fact clear: he wasn’t to be taken lightly. 

As gracefully as you could, you rose from the leather seat and strode to the door, Akio not far behind. He at least had the manners to hold the door for you, but you couldn’t really appreciate it with how he was acting prior.

Exiting the room, you stalled a bit and let Mr. Honey-Eyes pilot. The two of you ended up in what appeared to be a secondary seating area; a room more intimate than the living area you passed on the way in. 

Taking out your phone, you pulled up the contacts page. You had a solid two contacts: Mother and Broccoli Boy. You were on the verge of attaining both Iida’s and Uraraka’s, but the bell rang and it became quite hectic. You all decided it was better to wait for later.

“Here,” You supplied the device to the daydreaming boy. “Enter your number.” 

Akio didn’t say anything, but his head did perceptibly turn as if questioning your motive. 

“Relax, your father wanted us to do this.” Your amicable mask started slipping in the absence of your father-in-law. It wasn’t as if you really cared to get to know Akio, but out of obligation and practicality, you deemed it best to get along with your betrothed. That, and you wanted to be on Kazuo’s good graces for the sake of your mother.

The boy hesitantly took the phone, squinting while he typed. He handed it back with a sheepish look. 

“I don’t have anything against you or anything.” He mumbles, a steely glare directed at the shag carpeting. 

You regarded him blankly. “Look, I don’t expect us to fall in love at first sight, or ever, for that matter. All I need is for us to work properly together to maintain a household. Besides, I could pick up that you had a lover before this.” 

His eyes widened, showing all of their amber glory. Neat eyebrows raising, the boy muttered “how did you know?”. 

_‘Is he that naive? Did he really think I couldn’t figure it out with all of those hints?”_ You exhale deeply, palm now resting on your cheek. 

“It wasn’t that hard to gather. To be fair, I wouldn’t care if you had someone else, but only after we’re married and our parents get off our case. As long as we can maintain a reputation and stay dignified as a family, it doesn’t matter to me.” 

If Akio was shocked before, he was now absolutely flabbergasted. “How could you say such a thing? Even I’m not someone who would carelessly cheat on their wife.” 

While his execution was above average, you could tell he considered the idea. A slight hesitation before expressing his distaste gave it away. 

“Seriously, the ongoings behind the scenes of most families aren’t very pretty, at least in the Jiburu subdivision. I was too young to notice at the time, but when I was a toddler my aunts and uncles had numerous affairs. It was fine, though, because it expanded our numbers.” 

_‘He’s too caught up in morals for a ghoul. Either he was extremely sheltered as a child, or he was greatly influenced by an outsider.’_

Akio paused, contemplating deeply before his mouth opened. “She’s human.” 

_‘Ding ding ding! We have a winner!’_

“That makes it a little trickier, but some humans would probably understand, with quirks and all. It's those that wouldn’t that we have to avoid. If she truly loved you, I think she’d still love you, or whatever. That’s what romance novels say, anyway.”

“That’s the thing, I-.” He paused, his eyebrows tightly knit now, and his rosy lips pursed. “I can’t force her into this world; I don’t _want_ to. She’s too. . . Too nice, and I know she’d be understanding! I just. . . I just like the way she makes me feel _human_ , and I _know_ we’d lose that if she found out.” 

_‘An ideal afternoon spent consoling my fiancé about his lover. Go, me!’_

Truthfully, you could grasp what Akio was saying. In fact, you had craved it for yourself years back. A savior that can look at you and just see another human that eats and plays and _laughs_. Despite him being older, perhaps he didn’t mature as fast as you, or maybe he clung to his hope a little tighter. 

“Then don’t give up on her, it’s really not that hard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a filler that shines more light on the reader and her mother + a new subplot (aka marriage(?)) Idk there's a lot of explanations for how the clan functions n stuff
> 
> The big question is: What do you think of Akio so far? He's the OC I've been alluding to for a while now, and ngl he was supposed to be something completely different (pink hair and was an angel? don't ask)
> 
> Another thing is I changed the reader's last name to Koukai (紅海) meaning red sea. I thought it'd be easier for the later chapters to not use [surname] and to reference it in her thoughts. I changed the picture in chapter 5 to reflect this (+clearer writing)
> 
> Anywho, sorry this took so long! Again, I wasn't super happy with it, but the next chapter will contain the action I've been so excited about! Hopefully you all got to know the reader a lil more with what she likes and how she handles her life
> 
> See y'all in a couple weeks! Thanks for reading!!
> 
> 5638 words


	14. 𝘕𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop woop! New chapter! Small a/n before we begin: I don't have enough time to write like I used to, nor the motivation. I believe I'll be able to post about once a month, but even that is a little O.O I don't like it, but it just is. In order for me to continue functioning as a student and social human being, I can't post as often :(

After your futile attempt at consoling Akio, your mother and you made a prompt leave after promising a future meeting. It was confirmed that the two of you would have several informal meetings, and would eventually pick out your engagement rings in early July. 

Your drive home was as dull and unremarkable as the trip there. You were informed of a meeting with the League the next day, but otherwise, the vehicle was silent. A calculative sharpness overtook your mother’s body language, inducing confusion in your thoughts. 

_ ‘What could she possibly be thinking? _ ’ Your mind wandered to the endless possibilities, and soon enough, you gave up on trying. The witch was an enigma, you could give her that. 

As you fiddled with your phone to pass the time, ultimately pulling up your list of contacts. Akio’s number now resided within your small range of numbers, seated on top of the list. ‘Koukai’ was omitted from his name, presumably because you shared the same surname. 

When contemplating whether or not you should text the boy, your sleek car pulled into your manor’s driveway (rather quickly, you may add). Quickly, you sent a text with your name so he could insert your contact. Powering your phone off, you climbed out of the car. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you walked through the front door, a ringing alarm in the recesses of your brain. 

“Come,” Mother gestured to the chair that opposed her’s on the dining table. The wide, rectangular slab of wood gifted you some distance from her intense stare but did little to alleviate your worries. “How did you get along with Akio? The boy’s capabilities are undoubtedly remarkable.” 

The woman’s fingers laced into a temple, and your gaze shifted in thought.  _ ‘What do I tell her?’ _ You ask yourself.  _ ‘Do I say he’s an incompetent fool who’s in love with a human?’ _

“I. . .” You fortified your eyes into an apathetic stare, unwavering under your mother’s seeking optics. “He’s adequate. I find him bearable. I would have to spar with him to see his true capabilities myself.” 

A deep hum reverberated from the witch’s throat; her dark eyes narrowed. “I see. Nothing more to add?” 

_ ‘Does she know? Or is she just trying to get it out of me?’ _

“It appeared that Akio was. . . lost in his thoughts during our meetings.” You chose your words carefully, not giving enough information if she didn’t know, but just enough if she did. 

“Yes,” The woman said, leaning forward in her chair. “And what did you do to soothe his running mind?” 

You almost let your incredulous feelings permeate your face, but you caught yourself. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand what you mean by that.” A respectful smile forced its way onto your lips. In hindsight, you must’ve looked ridiculous. 

“Kazuo informed me of his,” She paused, “ _ situation _ . Whether he has or had somebody, it’s your job to seduce him and replace his memories.” The wench spoke curtly as if it was obvious. 

You couldn’t refrain from showing your disbelief. “I don’t understand, mother. There’s no purpose in him loving me or being infatuated with me; you have already signed the deal, no? All this union guarantees is offspring, not love.”

An exaggerated sigh puffed out of Mother’s chapped lips, and she cupped her forehead as if her head throbbed. “This marriage is not set in stone, per se. As you have probably already figured out, Kazuo is a stingy bastard that likes to control his son. Therefore, to get Akio’s mind off of his ex-lover, he has employed you to fill his heart instead. If you manage to fuck it up, the deal is off.”

_ ‘So this is all based on that unstable boy’s  _ feelings _?’ _

“Mother, surely you know this is unreasonable-” 

She cuts you off, “Shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you. You’re walking on thin ice here, sweetie.”

“This is completely irrational! An arranged marriage based on needless feelings? Why would you agree to such a thing?” 

Even with how little the woman cared about you, you thought that she would surely get you a suitable partner. Nothing in your brain could answer why Mother, quick and shrewd Mother, would sign in on such a lopsided deal. Sure, Akio’s status is somewhat better than your own, but that doesn’t explain why seducing him is a bullet point on the contract. They could easily order a prostitute to get his feelings off the girl; why must mother offer you for the role?

A cutting  _ smack _ and a stinging pain ensued your small burst of outrage. “You  _ need _ to make this boy fall for you. Who are you to question my decisions?” She seethed. Small tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but your pride kept them from falling. 

“I won’t.” 

_ Smack! _

“Say that again one more time and I’ll-”

“I will  _ not _ marry him!” The embers of defiance flared in a dying breath, and soon they withered into ash as Mother tied you to the chair.

.

A fitful sleep befell you. Your body wound itself tightly, wracked with uncontrollable shivers. Your pride wilted, and thus, tears met your cheeks. Your shaky hands gently cupped your ears, whimpering pitifully. 

A new method was used today: a centipede was introduced to your ear canal. Its spindly yellow legs whispered in your skull, filling your head with unbearable pressure. As it wriggled, you screamed. Abrasion after abrasion, your eardrum ruptured. While not as intensely excruciating like previous sessions, your ear burned and you felt like you were losing sanity every time the arthropod took a step. 

The centipede continued violating your head until the late hours of the day. When it finally escaped, Mother picked it up immediately and guided it into your other, untouched ear. The phantom crawling visited your pitiful dream, furrowing your eyebrows and eliciting a shrill scream. When you woke, you found no solace, still plagued by the violation. 

_ Crawling. _

_ Crawling. _

_ CRAWLING. _

Clouds of hair surrounded your head, leaving bald spots in their wake. Your scalp burned with licks of fire when you clamped the roots of your hair for dear life. 

The reality of it all--your mother, your marriage, your  _ life _ \--it all weighed on you, crawling around in your brain, not unlike the centipede. More and more fistfuls of hair later, you realized your tears turned into deep guttural laughs. 

_ Everything _ was a goddamn  _ joke _ . 

What did you do to deserve this? You took everything in stride despite your mother’s insanity and abuse, despite your forced occupation. You wheezed in laughter; your lungs ached with fervor as your throat shredded. Blood caked under your fingernails as you rolled to the side of your bed. A long-dead Chinese red-headed centipede laid strewn in pieces. 

_ ‘I’m going fucking psycho.’ _

.

You twitched every few seconds in the League’s dingy hideout. While you were made aware of the meeting, the anticipation didn’t make it any better. The worst part was, you couldn’t call in sick if you tried. Shiggy would just wrap his grubby little hands around your throat and  _ poof _ , no more you. 

“Could you stop doing that?” The pasty boy in question scoffed at your antics. “We’re expecting an important playing piece.” 

It was your turn to huff. Your mother gave you another rancid piece of flesh today; in addition to the centipede in your ear yesterday, you weren’t in the greatest mood. “Shut the fuck up, Shigs, or I’ll beat the crust out of you.”

The baby blue-haired manchild rose his arms jokingly, like he usually does before saying something annoying. Before he could retort, however, Kurogiri popped up with the awaited guest.

“Stain!” Shigaraki welcomed, twisting a smile onto his face. The man, on the other hand, didn’t look amused.

The tender air was ridden of its lightheartedness, and the Hero Killer immediately took action. Catching you off guard, the older male swiped the portal’s arm with one of his knives. His lengthy tongue curled around the bloodied weapon. Not hesitating a second, Stain then caged Shigaraki with two blades, digging one into his shoulder. 

“So, you want to add me to your numbers?” 

You stepped toward Shigaraki, but his eyes told you to stay back.  _ “I’ll handle it,” _ They said, with a gleam. You only nodded slowly and remained rooted to your spot. You did ready yourself for combat, however, as you were taking no chances with a nimble guy like him.

“No matter what you want to accomplish, it is necessary to have conviction and desire. Those without it and those who are weak will be weeded out. It’s only natural.” The Hero Killer leaned forward, prompting you to call out your  _ kagune _ . “That’s why it turns out like this.” 

Crusty’s eyes met yours once again, this time with something playful added into the mix. A raspy groan filled the room and Shigaraki complained. “Kurogiri, take this guy back.”

“I-I can’t move my body. It must be the Hero Killer’s quirk,” Mist-Man stuttered, panic evident in his tone. You glanced his way and found his act at least somewhat believable. While Kurogiri probably was incapacitated, with Shigaraki’s decay and your  _ kagune, _ the situation was still under your control for the most part. 

Stain continued his monologue, unaware of your upper hand. “The word ‘hero’ has lost all meaning! In this society overrun by fakes, and the criminals who wave their power around idly, they should all be purged.” The blade that wasn’t already embedded in Shiggy’s shoulder made its way down before the bluenet stopped it with his hand. 

“Hey, just wait a sec. . . Not this palm. . .” The blade formed signature cracks, evidence of Shigs’s quirk working. “I’ll kill you.”

As the two monologued, your persistent twitching intensified.  _ ‘Why didn’t Stain take care of me? Why did he just leave me be?’ _ You wondered. Something itched your lower back, below where your  _ rinkaku _ sprouted.

“Kurogiri, Flawless, I don’t want someone this crazy as a party member.” 

The portal, as always, thinks logically and talks Shigaraki out of it, regarding the negotiations as complete. Meanwhile, you stared holes into Stain.

“Hey shitface,” You called out, earning the ninja turtle’s attention. “Why’d you never come at me?” 

Stain licked his lips. “I wanted to see your sense of justice. By the way you didn’t rush to save your boss, I can tell you’re a fake too.”

You snarled and your  _ rinkaku _ pulsated. “Don’t fucking flatter yourself,” You pointed a tentacle at the hunchbacked man. “I’m a mercenary, and I don’t get paid enough to wipe that child's ass every time something happens.”

The masked man chuckled, getting under your nerves. “My business is done. Now, return me to Hosu. There are things I must still attend to there.”

Kurogiri complied, opening a purple portal to Hosu. Once the gate closed, the tension in the room settled. When your  _ kagune _ withdrew, you felt a small tug of hesitance, as if the organs were resisting. 

_ ‘Huh,’  _ You thought.  _ ‘That’s new.’ _

“Man, Flawless come here and fix up our arms,” Crusty whined, snapping you out of your thoughts. You obeyed, only because you were the only one unaffected. Of course, you treated Misty first because he didn’t bitch as much.

Tying up the bartender’s arm, Shigaraki continued complaining about how slow you were, your nonchalant attitude; the works. Today, a new charge arose: your incessant twitching. 

“It was distracting me during the confrontation with Stain!” The blue-haired boy nagged. You rolled your eyes. “First, you don’t save me, and then you start shaking like a glitch!”

_ ‘You were the one that signaled me to stop,’ _ You thought.  _ ‘That dick, Stain, didn’t even notice, spewing his ‘true heroism’ bullshit.’ _ Something lingered, however, in the depths of your mind. 

_ ‘Did I hesitate?’ _

You’ve always been one for self-preservation, as it was something engraved into you as a small child. Being a mercenary furthered this priority as well; your life was always worth more than money. Had Stain been as powerful as the big boss and Shigaraki wanted your help, you would save your own ass instead. 

_ ‘Maybe that’s what he was alluding to,’ _ You wondered, moving onto Shigaraki’s deep cut. 

The night ended swiftly. After dressing the two men’s wounds, the three of you decided to meet at five pm the next day. At that time, the plan would come to fruition, and the League would (hopefully) attract more members. If they were to gain more manpower, your load would lessen, making you delighted at the notion.

An inkling of dread remained in your lower back, and on your walk home, you contemplated the opposition you felt. Perhaps, in training, you could attempt to pull the defiance out, like an ingrown hair. 

Deep in thought, you admired the wash of ebony in the night sky. Counting the stars, you were surprised to hear a ringing tone from your device. Immediately, your heart was filled with liquid dread in every beat. 

You picked up the phone swiftly, knowing your mother hated to wait. On any other day, you might’ve tested her, but after such an unpleasant experience last night, you were wary of doing so.

“Hello?” You spoke curtly, a rumble in your voice from a lack of sleep.

The other line was silent, perplexing you. Mother never wasted her time, especially not on you.

“Hello?” You tried again, this time with more strength. Did Akio decide to call you?

“Akio, is that you?” 

A yelp sounded through your phone’s speaker and was a much higher pitch than Akio’s smooth baritone. 

“I-I’m sorry! This is Midoriya, I-I must’ve butt-dialed you on accident. . .” The name registered in your mind and you perked up, eager to get your thoughts off of things. Things not affiliated with your real life.

“Hi Midoriya, if you’re not busy, why don’t we talk for a bit?” You asked gently, not wanting to scare off the boy. 

A sound of shock registered, and a pause ensued. “Y-yeah! Sure! That sounds great! I just got off of my internship and was heading home. . .” The freckled boy drifted off into incoherent mutters, leading you to roll your eyes. 

Attempting to lead the conversation in character, you stuttered while asking how his day was. Small talk superseded, and you grew increasingly tired of the boy’s bright demeanor. 

_ ‘So much for getting my mind off things. It’s more like ‘getting on my nerves’.’ _

“Ah! I just remembered I was going to ask you questions about your quirk!” Midoriya suddenly shouted, stuttering quick apologies afterward. 

You sighed inwardly.  _ ‘The faster I answer, the faster this call ends.’ _ You kick a stray stick in boredom.  _ ‘I suppose I don’t have anything better to do, anyway.’ _

“Yes, of course! What would you like to ask about?”

The greenet paused. “Uhm, well first, what is your quirk, exactly?”

You delved into the shallow explanation you fabricated about your quirk. Large restrictions were put in place that differentiated the school version of you and Flawless. You could use, at most, three tentacles as a Yuuei student, but your true maximum was six. You also overplayed your sensitivity to light, which explained the blindfold. Freckle Face ate it up to the last detail, asking elaborate questions that made you come up with things on the fly.

“Enough about me,” You cut the boy’s mumbling off, tired of doing the talking. “What about your enhancement quirk?”

Midoriya ceased his chatter, before saying it was “just a power-up quirk that can damage his body”. You didn’t buy it for a second; not only did his hesitation cue you in but his strange relationship with All Might, as highlighted by Todoroki. 

“Actually, Gran Torino, the hero I’m interning with, is working with me so it doesn’t damage my body anymore.” 

Your ears opened at the new information. “How so?”

“Well, before I was using my quirk like a special move, but we’ve developed a way for me to use it constantly”

You mulled over Midoriya’s words, examining the parameters of the green boy’s newfound abilities. With this, Midoriya may have jumped from the 20th percentile to the 99th. An unlimited power outflow at that magnitude would make the boy a hell of a fight. 

The night ended with you luring more information out of him, saying goodbye once you reached your door. Mother wasn’t home, to your delight. Even so, you tossed and turned in bed, as if something was poking your side. Eventually, you decided to just pull the all-nighter and get caught up on schoolwork, specifically hero ethics and history. 

It was at times like these where coffee blessed you. Its rich aroma and energizing properties brought you a rare comfort and something to return to. Even just brewing a cup made your racing mind slow to a jog.

_ ‘Should I order some more clothes online as well?’  _ You thought as you poured a cup. Seeing as you would soon be going on frequent dates now, it was likely beneficial for you to have an adequate supply of date attire. 

Walking from the kitchen back to your room, you searched up shops. You wished you had someone like Yaoyorozu’s number for fashion advice, but you never got around to it. Sighing, you ended up looking up “fashion” in the search bar. All of the articles that popped up were about a brand that recently dropped a summer line. The clothing looked good enough, so you bought a few pieces that looked appealing. After that, you found several other designer brands to order from.

_ ‘One hundred sixty thousand yen is average for a skirt, right?’  _ You tapped your chin before sipping the last of your french press coffee. 

In the end, you bought seventeen skirts, twenty-six shirts, twelve dresses, eight pairs of shorts, and nine pairs of shoes, despite not needing any.

_ ‘Shopping is more fun than I thought.’  _ Your pain had subsided moderately, and the happiness you attained from purchasing clothing created a synergy with your love of coffee. 

You had fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have no idea how much I've missed this :(. I'm taking pretty hard classes in school right now, though, and legit have no time (like wtf). 
> 
> Anyway! The love interest poll results are in! In case you haven't seen it:
> 
> 1st place (tied): Amajiki Tamaki and Dabi (35 total)  
> 2nd place: Todoroki Shouto (31 total)  
> 3rd place: Hawks (29 total)  
> 4th place: Bakugou Katsuki (17 total)  
> 5th place: Shinsou Hitoshi (15 total)
> 
> I took the amount of "likes" and subtracted the number of "dislikes" and made the total! You guys are still welcome to comment on who you'd like to see, though! 
> 
> Question of the chapter! What are you guys' preferred word count? I've asked this before, but now that I can only post every-so-often I think it's more important. (So like long (5K), short(2K), somewhere in between, etc.)
> 
> Thank you guys so much for sticking with this fanfic! Comments really help with my motivation, and I love questions (about anything)!
> 
> 3,281 words


	15. 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

The crisp night poured over your face in a vicious stream as you jumped from building to building. The chill of the air made your hair stand on end, and your fingertips grew cold. Lights blurred in your peripherals. Your eyes flickered from one body to the next from the rooftops.

Just earlier in the evening, Shiggy, Kuro, Stain, and you all teleported to Hosu to wreak havoc. The nomus hadn’t been completely refined, so when the amalgamated being departed, so did you. Your trained eye let you know of their general whereabouts, but eventually, they became too spread out. You decided on bouncing from region to region, assisting in mayhem when needed. 

This became bland quickly, as the low-rate heroes were already overwhelmed. Deafening blasts and the screams of civilians reverberated through Hosu. A sick smile made its way to your face; everything was going according to plan. 

Suddenly, you felt a buzz coming from your pocket. Shigaraki gave you the number of one of his throwaway phones for the day, so you presumed he was calling you back. Upon reading the message, though, you felt your eyes widen. 

The nickname “Broccoli Boy” lit up your screen with a single attachment. His location glowed on your device, piquing your interest.

_ ‘Hmm? Things just got entertaining.’ _

Judging by Midoriya’s cunning nature, this wasn’t just some butt dial like yesterday. The location was too perfect: in Hosu, near the place where the Hero Killer took off. Coupled with the fact that the bespectacled bitch probably went Stain hunting, it all fell into place.

You shot a quick text to Shiggy ( _ ‘I’m going to clean something up real quick. I’ll be back at base by midnight.’ _ ) and took off, allowing your body to go on autopilot.

Somewhere nearby, a flame-covered hero squinted into the night. His son just took off, like the brat he was, and he was still somewhat agitated he hadn’t come across a certain killer yet. A dark figure caught his bright turquoise eyes, however, and Endeavor felt something stir in his stomach. The same feeling he had in his bronze age, chasing those damn ghouls to the ends of the earth, all for naught. 

The same quiver in his spine, shake in his digits, that he felt when meeting eyes with that girl from the Sports Festival.

The bulky man shook it off and continued his hunt for Nomus. He had more pressing matters at hand, and the fleeting shadow above the city was surely not his top priority.

Meanwhile, you neared an epicenter of sound. You swore you caught the tail end of one of Midoriya’s “smash!”’s, a good sign you were nearing your target. Finally, overlooking an alleyway, you found a head of green hair among others. In your peripherals, you also caught a flash of red from a distance. 

Freckles was on the ground, likely from Stain’s quirk. The Hero Killer approached Specs with one of his signature monologues, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Stain’s blade neared the class president’s back, but you felt no push to help. No heroic instinct brought you to sweep Iida out of the killer’s way, and perhaps it was better like this.

A bright flame pushed the Hero Killer away from the bluenet’s body. The blur of red from before made his entrance rather climactic. 

_ ‘Maybe I should just sit down and enjoy the show…’ _ You thought, doing just that. Your legs dangled off the side of the building you were on, and you leaned over to watch the scene unfold.

“Midoriya,” Candy Cane huffed, raising his expensive phone. “You need to give more details in times like this. You made me late.”

You almost scoffed at the excuse. You were just on time, details notwithstanding. 

The dual-haired boy created an ice slide to save all of his incapacitated allies. He got in a fighting position, ready to face off with Stain.

“Well,” You started, jumping off the building and effectively dispersing the tension. “Since we’re all making our entrances, why don’t I join?” Landing in front of Stain, you brushed off your joggers and readjusted the studded mask that adorned your face. The voice-altering parts of the mask made it subtly uncomfortable, but you grinned and bore it. The males across from you all visibly stiffened, obviously preparing to face a new enemy.

Todoroki growled. “Who’re you?” He asked, his left side lit with flame and his right with frost.

You hummed in return. “You can call me Flawless.” Turning from your classmates, you faced the discount ninja. His jaw was clenched, and you could guess why.

The alliance between the League and Stain was hinged on a taut sinew of trust, ready to snap. In fact, Shigaraki hated the thought of the Hero Killer. Kurogiri was the only real glue in the relationship, and he only had so much effect. It was predetermined that the union would cease before a new day broke, but who’s to judge if you execute things a little earlier?

“Stain-san, I never pinned you as someone who’d go for children. I guess we’re all wrong sometimes, huh?” 

The man grated his teeth in irritation, and you obviously got on his nerves. You made a note to change your speech structure, as to not tip off the boys of your identity.

“You fake,” Stain said in a low tone. 

His sword glinted in the light and you let your  _ kagune  _ free, paying mind to alter the shape as much as you were able. The results were six spindly appendages bursting from your back, shining a deep blood red rather than a bright pure color. Your sclera delved into a pitch-black, and you could hear the intake of breath from everyone, excluding Stain of course.

Half ‘n Half, in particular, had a shake in his breathing. Judging by his reaction, you concluded that he at least knew a little of his father’s  _ endeavors _ . Even Midoriya appeared to have some semblance of knowledge on your kind, making you crack a grin.

You broke the tense silence. “First time seeing a ghoul?” Greenie shook in fear, while Engine Legs and Roki tightened their lips. No verbal response was uttered. A chuckle escaped your lips, and you once again turned to the Hero Killer. “I’m here to end you today. The League no longer needs you.” 

The sicko’s tongue swiped his lips as if prompting you to try. The both of you made eye contact, and almost simultaneously took action. You clashed in the middle of your previous spots,  _ rinkaku  _ vs. katana. The intense edge of the blade was menacing, but it would bring you no harm.

_ ‘Goddamn, this fucker’s fast,’ _ You were taken aback by the man’s inhuman speed. Though you couldn’t be cut by normal steel, a blunt force at that velocity could bring about some nasty bruises. 

A deadly dance ensued, with quick maneuvers and sharp attacks. The man managed a hit on you once, though he didn’t break the skin. A millisecond of hesitation showed; he wasn’t aware that you were incapable of being pierced by his dull weapons. Your advantage was as clear as day.

The teens behind you were astounded, shocked that you, the man-eating ghoul from conspiracy theories and horror films, were on their side. 

“S-stop!” The blunet cried from the grimy floor. His face was scrunched in agony, and he struggled to form words .”That guy’s mine!” 

You scoffed as Stain managed to slice your joggers. “Funny words to say to people that are helping you. You can’t even get off of the fucking ground.” The irritation from Iida’s ignorance lit something in your lower back. The bubbling from the day before reappeared with more fervor. 

“I inherited my brother’s name!” Iida cried. Your back was on fire now, bubbling, warping. You had to stop your intense fight to alleviate the pain. The Hero Killer mustered his strength and got a nasty hit on your tibia. Falling, you felt your body slowly lose control. Before you could hit the ground, something blew a hole through your back. 

Your mother was never a nice person by any means. She was deceitful, monotone, and cruel. She savored the negativity in her own silent way, bursting when she had her fill. Despite all of the whips, cuts, and bruises she made on you, your face was always the star of the show. The twisted muscles that crumpled your flesh in unadulterated pain; you never understood the appeal. You were always one to make a quick blow and cross the body off the list. 

This time was different.

Seeing the looks of horror splashed on everyone’s faces gave you a quivering high. Stain’s jaw was gritting firmly, so much so that you could see it a mile away. With a smug assurance, you knew if he weren’t so stiff, he’d be shaking as much as the other three. No matter how much they tried to contain it, the small trembles of their fingertips, their shaking pupils, it all made you feel so. . .

Alive.

You would be the last person to point out similarities between you and the witch. But the trapped screams and wide eyes made you want to sob in pleasure. It gave you a dark, warped sense of indulgence in your core. You wanted to take a picture and become one with their petrified expressions. 

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said, slowly. “What’s going on?” Midoriya appeared to have regained control of his body, as he and the half n’ half boy were shielding Iida and the pro with their bodies. While you wouldn’t mind satiating your cravings with their fibrous ligaments, somewhere in your lizard brain you recognized Stain as the enemy.

Like a scuttling bug, you whipped to face the unsightly man, pouncing on him not a second too soon. Your bones felt lighter within your skin, and your speed increased exponentially as a result. Your velocity was now on-par with the Hero Killer. His blown eyes showed the fear you craved. 

Likely recognizing he couldn’t win a one-on-one with you and your. . . special circumstances, the bag of bones darted to the unsuspecting boys and nicked the greenet, immobilizing him once more. Todoroki noticed too late, and only managed to repel the killer from another attack with his fire. Your uncontrolled anger flared as you realized you now had four children to protect. 

“Eyes on me, you bastard,” you rumbled. Two centipede-like  _ kagunes  _ pelted into the surrounding buildings, narrowly missing the swift pest. 

He once again attacked your classmates, this time burying two daggers into Freezerburn’s forearm. The blood made your eyes flicker in hunger. A deep sensation rose in your throat as you were caught between devouring the boy and saving him. You didn’t even notice the creeping ice from Todoroki’s foot. As you made your decision, the feeling of weightlessness overtook your senses, and your mind regained some sobriety.

“What the fuck?” You hissed. “Kurogiri?” 

The misty man accompanied your beloved leader, both adorned with stern faces. Their rigid expressions made you feel like a cornered animal. Your pride suffered as you were left reeling from your return.

“What were you doing, Flawless?” Kurogiri’s monotonous voice made you bristle, still riding from the high of your new power. 

You scoffed. “I sent Shigs a text that I was gonna take care of Stain.” Your menacing insects floated around you, sharpened for a quick betrayal. 

Shigaraki relentlessly mutilated his neck with his crusty nails. “You’re messing up the plan! This new powerup will only bring Stain more attention!” His childish side was exposed more and more the longer he scratched. 

The unfiltered emotions that coursed through you made you reckless. A centipede slammed into the building, crushing a sizable amount. Both men visibly stiffened. “I am not some fucking toy,  _ Tomura _ . I play by my own rules. When Stain kills three kids and steals all the headlines from you, you’ll realize that I was helping.” 

You were seeing red, incredulous that they would dare doubt you.

Kurogiri spoke up. “I disagree. How do we know you weren’t helping him? Flawless, you’re letting your emotions escape you-”

“I am not!” You yelled. Your  _ rinkaku _ pulsed with a dangerous maroon. “I’ll remind you that this is a favor you’re asking of  _ me _ . I can back out at any time.” 

“Is that so?” Shigaraki smirked with a newfound assurance. “I can just tell your mother and remind her of what Master did-”

Out of all things, it was so very  _ Shigaraki _ to tattle on you to your mother. For as long as you’ve known him, he’s never taken the high road. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

The second that the little shit brought out his phone, your mind went blank. The terror and rage you felt made your scalp itch and burn, begging you to tear out your hair. The centipedes grew minds of their own and obliterated Shigaraki’s phone. He turned and immediately grabbed one of the red creatures, partially decaying its head. 

“You wench!”

The minor disagreement quickly spiraled into a hot dispute, fueled by your uncontrolled emotions and Shigaraki’s thick skull. 

Before you could get the last word in, a familiar weightlessness took hold of you, plunging your body back into the shadows.

.

Midoriya was, quite frankly, shaking in his red shoes. As if the encounter with Stain wasn’t enough, an unknown ghoul shows up and begins fighting for him and his friends. He had only heard of ghouls in small conspiracy theory forums, linking ghoul hunting and Endeavor’s rise to success. He didn’t dig that deep, though; after all, he was loyal to All Might through-and-through. 

The articles he did read were bone-chilling, like an intense brain freeze in his soles and palms. While the evidence was generally from decades ago, it did little to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. 

Seeing one in real life was straight from his nightmares. The way she held herself against the Hero Killer’s daunting aura was unbelievable; it was like watching two pros fight to the death. What was more horrifying, however, were the two  _ centipedes  _ that crawled out of her back, bending to her will. He couldn’t help but gasp when it happened. A few minutes later, though, she vanished. Midoriya wished he could brush it off as some adrenaline-induced daydream, but the lingering trepidation confirmed her existence.

Even when he couldn’t afford to, his mind wandered to the seemingly helpful ghoul. When the decisive blow was finally given to the Hero Killer, his mind was wiped clean with relief and she was eventually pushed to the back of Midoriya’s thoughts.

The green-haired boy was hoisted onto Native’s back, only to be met with Gran Torino. After attempting to explain the situation to his mentor, more pros entered the scene.

_ ‘The fight against the Hero Killer probably only took about ten minutes. But to us, it felt like a very long fight.’ _ The freckled boy reminisced. 

An almost eerie stillness overtook before a winged figure appeared. 

_ ‘A nomu-!’ _ Before he knew it, Midoriya was airborne. The others were quickly calculating how to safely return the intern before their former enemy escaped his bindings and paralyzed the creature.

“This society overgrown with fake heroes and the criminals who wave their power around idly. . .” Midoriya abruptly crashed to the ground, feeling much worse than before. 

“Should all be purged,” The Hero Killer finished his mini-speech as the greenet gasped in shock. Stain held down the boy’s head and Midoriya struggled to set himself free.

Unexpectedly, Endeavor joined in, gaining Stain’s attention. When the killer’s mask fell, a thick layer of bloodlust settled over everyone, immobilizing even the most steadfast of heroes. Step after ominous step, the villain made his way to the group of heroes. 

“I must make things right. . . Someone must be dyed in blood. . . I must take back what it means to be a hero! Come! Try and get me, you fakes!” The twisted man’s eyes were shaking in insanity. “The only one I’ll let kill me is the true hero, All Might!” 

The murderous intent was at an all-time high, knocking the pros to their knees. It was as if one were standing, facing the cold eyes of death. Midoriya felt his face drain of color. 

_ ‘I’m going to die today.’ _

Perishing appeared imminent until Stain was swept away by a speeding figure, effectively eradicating the bloodlust from the vicinity. 

Endeavor was the first to speak. “Where-where was he taken?” 

Gran Torino began to respond, but a large  _ plop! _ Interrupted his thought. Being the top figure of the group, Endeavor was the first to investigate. The number two hero’s hesitance was apparent, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. When the large man finally bent down to inspect the object, his spine went rigid.

“W-what is it. . .?” A miscellaneous pro questioned. It was an unspoken agreement that everyone would have to find out themselves, judging by the flame hero’s sealed lips. 

The blonde sidekick was the first to scream, and Iida’s throaty yell was next in line. Everyone wished the worst for the warped man, but seeing his decapitated head, seemingly pulled from the body by brute force, was no jovial event. The eyes were rolled, and the mangled flesh of the neck was shredded like ripped tissue paper. His spine was visible along with the spilling gore of the region. Blood leaked like an oil spill, but no one had the sense to move away. 

Midoriya’s repressed thoughts surfaced once more. His throat was bone dry, but he knew it had to be said. 

“It was the ghoul.” 

* * *

Stain was no easy meal to force down, and that was by your nonexistent standards. With the man’s repeated blood ingestion, his taste became muddled and gritty. Your tongue would be crying for days. On the bright side, the intense fatigue you were subjected to post-centipede had vanished after consuming a second appendage. 

Your gluttony aside, with a clear mind, you recalled the situation with Kurogiri and Shigaraki. You supposed that relations between the League of Lemurs and your family were now incredibly strained on your behalf. It would be incredibly lucky if your mother hadn’t been notified post-haste. 

_ ‘Hey, maybe now I don’t have to attend that damned Yuuei anymore.’  _ Perhaps a shining silver lining was still possible, but you restrained yourself from hoping too much.

A sudden buzz emitted from your pocket. Upon reading the contact name, you groaned.

**Taysuke**

heyhey i think youre famous

Attachment: 1 Image

thats you right?

_ 12:46 p.m. _

You had the blessed opportunity to forget about the little bastard for a while. You zoomed in on the picture and found what you assumed to be a screenshot. In the image was a blur of black along with some figures speckling the sides. 

_ ‘There must’ve been a video of me kidnapping Stain. How did it get spread so quickly?’ _

**Me**

How are you so certain that blob is me?

And where did you even find that video?

_ 12:48 p.m. _

The fifteen-year-old responded before you could even blink.

**Taysuke**

what do you mean?

its all over the internet

plus youre in hosu rn

_ 12:48 p.m. _

_ ‘How does the little fucker know that?’ _ You were furiously typing a response before Taysuke answered as if he could read your thoughts.

**Taysuke**

i asked auntie to put a tracking device in you

and it works !

_ 12:49 _

Flabbergasted beyond belief, you exited the messaging app, leaving the kid on read. As fate would have it, he was right. When typing just an ‘s’ in the search bar, Stain’s name would pop up multiple times. It appeared the man’s vision was appealing to the public, even when it came from a villain. Some articles even mentioned you, though not directly. Multiple forums were discussing the Hero Killer’s abductor.

_ The Hero Killer Stain: Who Took Him and Why? _

One thing was for certain: the decapitated head was kept under wraps by the heroes. Why? You weren’t quite sure. Naturally, with Midoriya’s tendencies, you had much to worry about even without society’s watchful eye. The green-haired boy had an incredible perception, and you knew that the encounter with him would spark a greater inquisition on ghouls.

When you arrived home, your mother was nowhere to be seen. Too exhausted to be thankful, you hit the sack as soon as possible, not bothering to peel off your sweaty clothes. You would inform Mother about the terminated relationship with the League tomorrow. For now, you rested. 

.

“Hey, did you see the video, Ojiro?” 

“Video? You mean of the Hero Killer?”

“Right. Seeing that, you can see how he’s really single-minded and, like, tenacious. He even got a mysterious escape ending! Doesn’t it almost make you think he’s cool?” Kaminari wondered out loud, tone-deaf of his classmates’ endeavors. 

Midoriya scolded him politely, and you laid your head back on your desk. You had yet to tell your mother of the state of affairs. She was out the entire weekend, and you weren’t particularly inclined to call or text the witch. To top it off, Taysuke kept badgering you with any articles on “Stain’s kidnapper” he could get his hands on. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a pink finger tapped your shoulder. “How’re you doing?” Ashido asked you, sitting on top of an adjacent desk. 

“Ah, I’m fine. Just tired from Aizawa’s workouts.” You responded with a weak smile. 

The horned girl’s eyes widened. “I forgot you didn’t do an internship! How was it? Was it boring?” 

“She looks a little tired to be answering your questions, kero,” Asui interjected, blunt as per usual. Ashido blushed profusely.

You attempted to save the girl’s pride at the expense of your energy. “I-it’s okay, Ashido-san. Maybe we can continue this conversation after I gain a little energy.”

“You can call me Mina! And that sounds great. Can I get your number?”

The three of you made small talk and exchanged numbers. Jirou shortly joined in, also hesitantly asking for your number.

“. . . I will once again walk on the path to becoming a hero! Now, it is time to commence class!” Iida yelled, startling your group. Aizawa soon entered in his typical nonchalant manner, beginning class. 

The day was majorly centered on easing back into schoolwork and the incoming doom of exams. In heroics, you wore your new costume. It wasn’t much, but it felt a lot better to move in. Some of the aspects reminded you of work, which was simultaneously comforting and off-putting.

In the racing exercise, you placed in the middle of the pack, careful to tune up your output slightly to show you trained. Midoriya showed off his new moves, though you had already observed them in Hosu. 

_ ‘To think his one-shot power output could become so versatile. . . He’s definitely someone I need to watch out for.’  _ You thought. A twisting feeling overtook your stomach when you watched the boy fly. 

Most surprising, however, was finding out that  _ Mineta _ was the one you should truly look out for. When everyone was changing after class with All Might, the little purple gremlin found a peephole into the women’s locker room.

Due to your acute hearing, you caught on faster than most others (except for maybe Jirou). Hearing “My little Mineta is already a criminal act!” was enough to set your hairs on end. Unfortunately, you were still subjected to being called a “voluptuous transfer student” by a grape micrococcus, which was unpleasant, to say the least. 

When it finally came to the end of the day, you were absolutely beat. As if to prolong your torture, Aizawa had a few announcements. 

“Well, it’s almost time for summer vacation, but of course, it wouldn’t make sense for you to rest the whole month.” 

“Don’t tell me. . .” Kaminari starts. You, on the other hand, had no clue what your teacher was alluding to.

“During summer vacation, we’ll have a training camp in the woods.”

The class cheered, commenting on their most-anticipated activities. In lieu of excitement, you were trapped in a dilemma.

_ ‘Do I tell the League. . . or not?’ _

“However, those who do not pass the final exams before that. . . will be in summer school hell.” 

You repressed a sigh.  _ ‘Summer school sounds like absolute torture, but so does a training camp.’  _ Slumping further in your chair, you made up your mind.  _ ‘Goddamn it. I guess I have to pass.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while TT. I'm in online school and midterms are coming up, so I don't know how much I'll be able to write. 
> 
> I apologize for the update not being as long as you might've hoped--I was going to write more, but I found that adding more plot wouldn't make sense. On the other hand, I'm sorry that the last part was pretty rushed haha (I'm on the verge of writers block, so I'm attempting to move onto a new arc to avoid that)
> 
> Question: Is there anything you'd like to see in this story? From small easter eggs (from Haikyuu!, Demon Slayer, Soul Eater, etc.) to more love interests, I'd love to hear you guys' thoughts.
> 
> I hope to see you soon~ Thank you for reading!
> 
> 4232 words


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